I get asked a lot what molecular gastronomy, or modernist cuisine, is all about, but I think molecular gastronomy is one of those things you have to see, feel, and taste to truly understand. I can say that molecular gastronomy is the cross-section of science and cooking, where chefs apply techniques straight out of a chemist’s playbook to food, but when you really get down to it, nothing beats tasting and feeling the results of culinary experimentation.

I can still recall the anticipation I had leading up to my first watermelon caviar experiment. It was like experiencing college for the first time. I had no idea what to expect even though I read so much about it. The transformation of watermelon juice to watermelon caviar is magical. Little, if any, practical reason exists in creating caviar that has the taste of watermelon, but the fact that one can pull off such feat and create unique dishes that surprise people presents a form of art and entertainment itself. Techniques like spherification, though they have some scientific value, serve mainly a cultural landmark and fascination. As a society, we are infatuated with trying new things, and while the field of technology produces new products and innovations unfailingly, culinary innovations trickle in more slowly. When Ferran Àdria first presented the spherification technique, it was a revolution that thousands of others began copying—including myself.

A similar experience can be had for watermelon “tuna,” which, again, takes watermelon and presents it in new light. The texture changes, and no food serves as a precedent.

Making watermelon tuna does not present as much materialistic obstacles as watermelon caviar. One simply needs a vacuum sealer—which can be bought cheap at the local grocery store or Amazon.com—and watermelon. (Note: The prices of vacuum sealers vary a lot, from as low as $6.99 for a hand-pump sealer, to a mid-range FoodSaver for about $70. You can go even higher with industrial-grade chamber vacuum sealers, but those are generally out of the price range for most curious cooks).

Watermelon tuna, tastes undoubtedly like watermelon but takes on a curious texture. It maintain a little bit of the crunch originally in watermelon but becomes flexible and slimy—like tuna. A bite into watermelon tuna gives off the familiar crunch of an apple but yields with no resistance to the force of the bite. The experience of hearing a food crunch underneath your mouth yet feeling your teeth sink smoothly into watermelon tuna exceeds imagination. One must try the watermelon tuna for themselves to truly experience the excitement.

Recipe: Watermelon tuna

• Watermelon, cut into rectangular slabs like a steak
• Any liquid you may want to marinade your watermelon in

1. Freeze the marinade into small cubes—small enough to fit in a vacuum sealable bag with your watermelon
2. Place watermelon and frozen marinade into vacuum sealable bag.
3. Vacuum seal the bag and let sit for at least 12 hours. I probably wouldn’t let the bag sit for more than 48 hours.
4. Open the bag and serve. Note: You can sear your watermelon tuna for a caramelized flavor.

Create modernist sushi with this technique or, simply, a refreshing salad.

The first time I went to Yoyogi Sushi, I came in with great expectations. My friends raved about it. Local publications raved about it, and even Yelp garnered favorable reviews. However, a glance inside the cramped restaurant shot bouts of doubt throughout my body. There was minimal décor. The menu looked greasy and worn out, and the wooden tables offered just enough room to shuffle around.

An adventurous foodie knows that a restaurant’s atmosphere does not tell all about its fare, so I decided to give the place a chance. I waited in line, watching a line of chefs busily compiling orders, and by the time I got to the front of the line, I decided on a combination of tuna and yellowfin rolls. An energetic old lady shouted my order in the direction of the sushi bar, and I saw one of the sushi chefs beginning on my order. His hands moved quickly and methodically, and I could tell from the mechanical precision of his actions that the sushi chef carried years of experience under his uniform. Comforted by what seemed to be quality craftsmanship, I handed over my debit card to the old lady.

After ordering, I found a table, one of the few tables open, and sat down. Within minutes, my order arrived on a simple, white plate with monochrome floral designs in the corner. I stared delighted to find that the rice to fish ratio strongly favored fish. Though the plating looked uninspired, one bite of the tuna roll affirmed my decision to come. The fish gave away telltale signs of freshness as my mouth hacked away at it into little pieces. The rice mirrored in quality, providing a glutinous, sticky complement to the fish. Given the $6 price tag for two, six-piece rolls, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a better deal anywhere.

Yoyogi also performs well in the department of specialized rolls. Their spider roll follows the trend of high filling to rice ratio, and the crispiness of deep-fried crab remains intact despite being in a roll. As with most speciality rolls, the spider roll offers a smorgasbord of flavors, mostly salty and savory but also with a tinge of sweetness.

Yoyogi Sushi lacks the creativity and frills of an avant-garde sushi restaurant, and they don’t clearly state their sourcing of fish, but Yoyogi offers what many working class members of society want—an affordable sushi joint that procures tasty rolls.

Hamilton came off as a strong personality, someone who is not afraid to voice her opinion and comfortable in her mannerisms. She laughed, she cursed, and she genuinely engaged in conversation. Despite her strong personality, Hamilton seems amicable, and I would not mind hanging out with and certainly not mind learning how to cook from her.

During the seventy-five minutes our class had with her, she answered questions directly and honestly. For example, when asked about food blogs, she told us that while she sometimes spends time reading them, she feels bad afterwards because that was time spent she could have used to do something more productive.

Here are the cliff notes of what I learned:

1. Hamilton keeps items on the Prune menu even if it’s not their most successful item.
2. School was like a vacation to Hamilton. Break from manual labor.
3. Hamilton was completely compliant with requests from friends and family who received pre-publish text of the book.
4. Seeing as Hamilton portrays her own flaws, she allows other people in her memoir to be flawed.
5. Hamilton doesn’t think time spent reading food blogs or watching food shows is time well spent.
6. Hamilton enjoys breakfast at Balthazar at 8 a.m.—before all the tourists get in—Peter Luger for steak, Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station, and Angel’s Share for a drink.

I talked to Hamilton one-on-one after the class discussion to get my book signed, and after I mentioned that I ran a food blog, a look of surprise ran across her face. “Were you offended by what I said about food blogs earlier,” she asked. “Not really,” I said sheepishly. “I understand what you mean. I used to read a lot of food blogs all the time, but it takes up a lot of time, and I definitely can’t do that during the school year.”

Hamilton asked me about Toastable, so I told her the link. I’m doubtful she’ll have the time to visit—or the desire—but it’s cool having been able to talk to such an accomplished person.

My friend Brian and I visited WD~50 this past Friday. It was my second visit to the place, and like I promised myself after my first visit, I ordered a la carte. As much as I enjoyed the tasting menu, the dishes were a tad bit too small for my comfort, and there was no way I was shelling out $140 on a meal.

Though we only ordered one dish each, the waiter treated us with a complimentary amuse-bouche of sashimi with yogurt spheres, jam, and these crunchy, caviar-sized balls. I wish I had taken notes, but I didn’t so that’s the most accurate description I can get in terms of what the amuse-bouche was. In terms of taste, the bite-sized dish lacked any strong flavors and instead carried a subtle herbal note from the jam. The dish, being cold, presented interesting texture combinations, such as the silkiness of sashimi and the crunchiness of those little caviar-sized balls, but the flavors leaned towards a blandness I was not expecting. In retrospect, the mild flavors and the cool temperature of the dish posed as a wonderful setup to our main dishes.

I ordered duck breast with black sesame dumplings, red cabbage, and parsnip consommé, while Brian ordered pork ribs with hush puppies, spaghetti squash, and red-eye gravy. The duck breast, unsurprisingly, was impeccably cooked—most likely cooked sous-vide. Each slice of duck breast had a quarter-inch layer of fat browned on one side. These delightfully shocked my taste buds with a robust grilled flavor and savoriness. Cabbage, if it could be cooked al dente, would be exemplified by the cabbage in this dish. The consommé provided a light and delicate base that wrapped all the flavors in the dish together. Perhaps the dish could use more flavors, and if I were to choose, I would modify the dumplings—make them more meaty, reduce the thickness of the skin, and make them larger.

Though I did not taste the pork rib dish, Brian admitted he was pleased with the dish. Lastly, the 3-piece meal ended with a unique spin on rice ‘krispy’ treats—a mild ice cream covered in a salty, caramel shell with crunchy, rice krispy pieces. These treats relied on a curious combination of sweet and salty, that captured my attention through indecision over whether the treats were more sweet or salty. Thus, Malcolm Livingston II, the pastry chef at WD~50, manages to strike a delicate balance of flavors that had both me and Brian heeling for more.

Some years ago, Yale College began hosting a cooking competition known as Final Cut. The premise is simple, a team from each residential college—there are twelve—compete to create an appetizer and entree in the span of one hour. The primary ingredients are known beforehand, and additional ingredients or equipment can be requested, with the limitation of having two butane burners. The winning takes home a cash prize and a handful of culinary goodies.

The Final Cut competition had been one of the events I had been looking forward to coming into college, so when the time came, I teamed up with two friends Jonathan and Angela. We managed to win the preliminary competition, allowing us to compete in the final competition against eleven other teams.

In the preliminary round, we managed to win by cooking a vichyssoise containing chicken, candied carrot, blueberry-infused celery, and croutons. Vichyssoise is a French potato and leek soup normally served cold, but due to limited time and resources, we served our vichyssoise hot. When I tasted the dish, an assortment of contrasting flavors and textures greeted me. Croutons added a much needed bite to the dish. Chicken played a savory overtone, and the candied carrots balanced the primarily salty dish with strong, caramel flavors

At the final competition, we conjured up an appetizer soup based on spicy Korean flavors with enoki mushrooms, stuffed mushrooms, and daikon radish. Our main dish consisted of a Korean BBQ foam-filled mozzarella balloon, baked cod, candied beet, candied carrots, and quinoa. In retrospect, I think the execution of our entree during the final competition lacked finesse. The mozzarella balloons were made ahead of time, so not only was the filling cold, the balloons themselves cooled. The quinoa sat unattended for a while, losing heat, and were a tad overcooked. We didn’t have time to blowtorch them either for an added layer of complexity. The beets, which we struggled with during practice sessions, never reached the softness I desired, but on the other hand, I think we did a great job with presentation, especially considering our limited practice runs. The cod turned out silky soft, and the flavor of the soup was spot on.

The whole competition was a great experience overall, and I’m hoping to go at it again next year. If you’re interested in making something similar to what we made at the competition, here are some recipes.

Korean yukejang
Mozzarella balloon
Korean BBQ

Photos by Brittany Stager of GroupTalk.

Like most people, I grew up fearful of sushi. The concept of eating uncooked meat seemed unnatural to me. The only explanation I could come up with is that eating raw fish was a sort of rite of passage to adulthood, like drinking alcohol is. After all, I rarely see anyone but adults and college students eat copious quantities of sushi, and we all know what else adults and college students do in copious amounts… Those times I saw a child bite into sushi, I would always ask my parents how that could be so.

Of course, as I grew older, I realized that raw fish was, in fact, not poisonous or inedible. I quickly learned that raw meat may be eaten too, if handled carefully. The first time I tried sushi was at a dinner party, and by the time I had my first bite, my curiosity as a foodie influenced many of my decisions. The first few pieces were refreshingly unfamiliar. The fresh, squishy feel of raw fish though not immediately enticing, won over my palate. I remember leaving with a strong desire to try more sushi.

My subsequent encounters with raw fish were what really cultivated my appreciation for sushi. There is a psychological phenomenon known as the exposure effect—the more one experiences something, the more that person likes that thing—so soon enough, I had visited numerous sushi restaurants and binged on sashimi until the point of vomit. Still, every time I sit down for sushi, my mouth waters and I try to eat as efficiently and gluttonously as possible.

I need not go over how healthy sushi and raw fish is for the human body because I have already, here.

Last year, in January, I visited a sushi restaurant in Boston, MA with a friend named Handson. This was also about the same time I began to get hooked on sushi, so having the excuse of eating out, I searched for a sushi restaurant. Fin’s, a Japanese sushi bar and grill, was conveniently located along the Charles, on the outskirts of Boston University’s campus and across the river from MIT, which is the reason I was in Boston in the first place. Sushi at Fin’s smells and tastes impeccably fresh—like the ocean. The rice to fish ratio balances precariously on the sweet-spot, and the portion sizes make it seem worth the money. Price-wise, Fin’s offers a great lunch deal, and were I a stably employed adult living in Boston, I would eat here every day.

Fin’s Sushi and Grill
636 Beacon St. (between Brookline Ave & Raleigh St)
Boston, MA 02215
(617) 267-8888

After watching Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, a few friends and I checked out the recently opened restaurant Cava Mezze Grill. This fast-casual joint spins of the success of Cava Mezze, a Greek tapas restaurant in the Washington D.C. metropolitan area which opened in 2006. Five years and an additional restaurant opening later, the three friends behind Cava Mezze decided to bring the taste of their upscale Greek cuisine to a more widely accessible platform.

The efficient, modern atmosphere of the Grill mirrors that of Chipotle. This is where you would grab lunch with virtually anyone, from the casual acquaintance to intimate friend. There’s a lot of brown inside—laminated wood chairs, wooden tables, unbleached napkins, and dark wall décor—just like Chipotle.

Most notably, you order food at the Grill like you would at Chipotle: you walk through an assembly line of ingredients, choosing a meat, dips, and various toppings; watch as your pita, or bowl, gets filled with delicious Greek ingredients; devour.

The Grill offers chicken, meatballs, lamb, or village sausage for choices of meat, but vegetarians can take comfort in the presence of falafel in the menu. The list of dips and spreads comprise of harissa, a feta mousse (Crazy Feta), hummus, tzatziki, and egg plant with red pepper. Toppings range from salad, cabbage, and tomatoes to feta, Kalamata olives, and basmati rice. For a bit more money, you can order some pita chips, seasonal soup, and Greek yogurt topped with an assortment of strawberries, blueberries, honey, granola, and walnuts.

I ordered a pita with Crazy Feta, chicken, tomato & onion salad, cabbage salad, lettuce, and Kalamata olives. The combination offered a range of textures, from the soothing, creamy Crazy Feta to the soft crunch of cabbage salad. I enjoyed the savory taste of chicken, which was marinated with a blend of Mediterranean ingredients, and the robust taste of Crazy Feta. My only complaint is that the Kalamata olives overpowers the taste of accompanying ingredients due to their saltiness.

Though the price of food at the Grill is only slightly cheaper than the price of food at Chipotle, portion sizes at the Grill are about 40% smaller. Still, for those keeping an eye on their waistlines, the smilers portion sizes are a blessing. For me, the pita packed a ton of taste but didn’t quite satisfy my hunger.

Having just finished my first semester of college and my first wave of finals, I have good reason for my month-long absence. After returning to school from Thanksgiving break, I trudged through one last week of classes, then studied for finals during the following week, and took my finals during the week after that. Needless to say, I had not found time to write until now. After finals, however, I booked the first train I could find to New York. After a much-needed day of respite at my mom’s, I went out to the city to meet some friends, Ashleigh, Dom, and Anh. We ate at Danji for lunch and Cafe Habana for dinner. Though, I feel like we should have done the reverse.

I’m lucky to have a mother who cooks well because the quality of her Korean cooking surpasses most Korean restaurants. In fact, the only reason I would eat Korean food out is to eat at Hangawi, which does not necessarily trump my mother’s cooking in quality but offers unique Korean dishes my mother has never attempted before—avocado bibimbap and portobello mushroom “bulgogi.”Danji

Still, I went against my gut because I wanted to eat healthy, and Korean food is generally healthy. The fare, though a bit too pricey for its portion sizes, would appease most Westerners and, perhaps, even those who have grown up on Korean food. In fact, Danji recently made it on Sam Sifton’s list of top ten new restaurants in 2011—it placed tenth. Danji also found itself on Adam Platt’s top 101 restaurants in New York, placing 97th. Making it onto the radar by two prolific food critics in its first year is quite the accomplishment, especially considering how Danji is not the brainchild of a big-name chef.

The small, cozy restaurant offers a short list of items to order from. They have most of the Korean staples down, such as bibimbap and bulgogi, but they also offer some traditional Korean foods with a modern reinterpretation. For example, bulgogi is served as sliders.

I ordered a beef daikon soup, which comes in two sizes—small or large. At first, the bowl looks like it’s filled with nothing but liquid and a few sprigs of spring onion, but a little stirring unearths silky soft, rectangular sticks of tofu and minced pieces of meat. The warmth of the broth makes you want to grab the bowl and walk along the streets of New York.

Ashleigh ordered the spicy pork noodles, which are called bibim guksoo on their menu. The description comprises of words such as kimchi and bacon, but the dish has no kimchi in it, just the flavor of kimchi. Still, the noodles garnered only favorable words.

Anh ordered a box set, which Danji refers to as dup-bop set menus. The set menus come with two “side dishes”, the soup of the day, and rice with meat. The set menu side dishes are impeccably small, but considering the size of a normal dish, I was not surprised.

Dom, another friend of mine, ordered a small snack—the veggie dumplings. Danji’s dumplings look and feel like they came straight out of a deep fryer. They’re piping hot and have a crustacean shell. The filling does not clump together like some poorly made dumplings, but they are pretty standard in terms of taste.

Cafe Habana

After spending the day in SoHo, we stumbled across an old diner that looked like it could appear on Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Drives. However, a Yelp search revealed only a stellar past—four stars and over 1,400 reviews—and after seeing a record like that, we didn’t think the place would disappoint.

The interior is rather plain if not funky: simple blue, booth seats, white-washed walls, and tropical paintings touting the restaurant’s name. Food at Cafe Habana follows a similar style, simple and perhaps a bit funky, but it works.

You won’t find any fanciful, creative dishes at Cafe Habana, but the portions are well-sized, and the food satisfies. This place is by no means foodie heaven, but if you’re looking for a quick bite or a casual meal, Cafe Habana’s convenient location next to SoHo’s shopping district makes the restaurant a great place for sustenance.

Danji
346 W 52nd St (between 8th Ave & 9th Ave)
New York, NY 10019
(212) 586-2880

Café Habana
17 Prince St (between Elizabeth St & Mott St)
New York, NY 10012
(212) 625-2001

College has changed my view on money. By that, I mean I’ve become a lot less stringent about the little things, $8 sandwich, $2 coffee, and other similar purchases. I bought my cousin a buffalo chicken sandwich called ‘Wenzel’ a few weeks ago when he came to visit, and after handing him the sandwich, he offered to pay me. During high school, I would have asked out of formalities, “You sure?”, and proceeded to let him pay. Instead, I told him that he had already spent an exorbitant amount of money on cab rides that weekend and the sandwich was on me. I brushed it off and didn’t give a second thought to my actions. I would not say that I am less frugal, though. I still am. I search for the cheapest deals on Amazon, forgo buying items unless I really need them, and take advantage of free meal swipes every weekend, but around friends, I’m a bit more loose with my change. I don’t mind spending money on overpriced breakfast sandwiches if it means I get to go eat with a friend while sharing a mutual frustration over the price of such sandwich. It’s liberating not having to feel a pang of regret after buying some food that I could have otherwise obtained for free at home.

Trattoria Trecolori

Speaking of overpriced food, I ate at a New York City restaurant called Trattoria Trecolori while visiting my friend Brian at Columbia. I realize though, that practically everything in New York City is overpriced. The Chipotle burritos in Manhattan cost nearly a dollar more than those in suburban Maryland, and they taste the same. I’m biased because I’m not a fan of seafood besides salmon, mackerel, scallops, and anchovies, but Trattoria Trecolori’s menu could use some smaller numbers.

I ordered a risotto with various seafoods incorporated into the mix, and though the fare was okay, I couldn’t help but think about the scallop risotto dish at Cava Mezze I had months earlier. It was cheaper and tastier.

Brian and I also shared an $18 appetizer consisting of clam, shrimp, mushrooms, and eggplant. While the eggplant and mushroom pieces were tasty to gnaw on, the price was a bit too high. I didn’t try the clam, but Brian liked them.

Brian ordered a linguine with clam dish. Simple, but I bet it was refreshingly good.

Locanda Verde

This quaint, high-class restaurant by Andrew Carmellini is a favorite of mine. I love the brunch there—admittedly, I’ve only been to Locanda Verde during brunch hours. Carmellini’s sheep’s milk ricotta with toast transformed my view of what simple ricotta cheese and bread could achieve. The thick, creamy cheese mirrors the texture of Greek yogurt and juggles both sweet and salty. The toast, with its warm, white center and tinged crust, fits perfectly with the ricotta cheese. See my previous, more ornate description below:

Embodying the texture of whipped cream cheese, Carmellini’s ricotta served an addictive accompaniment to toast. Light, truffle honey lay drizzled over the ricotta, and rosemary sprigs graced atop cloud-white cheese. The trio packed a synchronous punch to my taste buds, achieving perfect balance between sweet, savory, and fragrant.The burnt orange toast itself could anchor as a stellar dish. With a crunchy, charred crust invoking robust aromas and an interior soft as plush, Carmellini’s toast certainly does not come from an ordinary toaster oven. A dab of salted butter closes the deal, further elevating flavor profile and winning an uncontested spot as one of my all-time favorite dishes.

I tried a couple new dishes at Locanda Verde this time, the polenta waffle and zucchini frittata. Both continued reflected Carmellini’s extraordinary talent at conjuring up a modern, comforting brunch. The frittata, far from dry, was set to perfection and featured crescendos of buttery, salty flavor from the basil-infused goat cheese topping. Carmellini’s waffle batter resulted in the most delicate, fluffy waffle that succumbed easily to pressure. Though the inside was light as a croissant, the waffle’s outer shell maintained crispiness. Topped with cubed apples and syrup, the waffle left me reminiscing in childhood mornings where I would eat waffles at a dinky diner.

Note: See my earlier review of Locanda Verde.

Miya’s Sushi

Last but certainly not least, my friend LeRoy brought me to a New Haven restaurant called Miya’s Sushi. The place has won numerous accolades for its food and sustainability practices. Miya’s makes sushi using brown rice and focuses on serving only locally obtained fish. Their principles about food align with mine, which makes dining there a great experience. Honestly, I forgot which dishes I ordered, but they certainly were definitely satisfying. Miya’s runs a little shy on the raw fish to rice ratio—needs more raw fish—but the food tastes great nonetheless. Miya’s also produces unique slices of ginger; they’re thicker than normal ones and have a sweeter flavor.

Trattoria Trecolori
254 W 47th St
New York, NY 10019
(212) 997-4540

Locanda Verde
377 Greenwich St (between Franklin St & Moore St)
New York, NY 10013
(212) 925-3797

Miya’s Sushi
68 Howe St
New Haven, CT 06511
(203) 777-9760

There’s only so much you can do with mozzarella cheese. There’s pizza, salads, and sandwiches, but the role of mozzarella in these foods is essentially the same. Mozzarella serves as an addition to a larger entity. Mozzarella sticks are different in that they serve as the primary component of a food, but what if mozzarella served as a vehicle or base for other flavors? What if, in the case of mozzarella sticks, instead of the breading acting as a shell for mozzarella, the mozzarella acted as a shell for other flavors.

Mozzarella balloons address this concept in that you can create a “balloon” made of mozzarella and fill it up with any flavored foams you want. Foam is an aerated liquid which usually includes some fats—which are necessary for the stability of the foam. Foods like whipped cream are foams, but foams do not necessarily have to be sweet, e.g. Easy Cheese. Nor do they have to be a product of the food processing industry.

For my first mozzarella balloon, I made a thickened tomato-balsamic liquid to pair with the mozzarella cheese for a modernist take on the classic caprese salad dish. The flavors resounded well, with mozzarella playing a minor role and the tomato-balsamic flavors stealing the show.

It’s simple to make mozzarella balloons provided you have a cream whipper like this one. You can even use mozzarella string cheese to make the balloons.

Recipe: Mozzarella Balloon

Makes one

• 0.5 inch-radius ball of mozzarella cheese, about 28g
• thickened, flavored liquid (this is what goes in the mozzarella balloon)

1. Fill cream whipper with however much flavored liquid is appropriate. My cream whipper takes up to 0.5 liters, so I fill it up to that amount.
2. Microwave mozzarella ball for about 10 seconds or until soft and pliable. The mozzarella should be very hot, almost a bit too hot to handle. Alternatively, you can heat up the mozzarella ball in a water bath.
3. Wrap mozzarella ball around the dispensing tip of the cream whipper so that all expelled foam will be caught or surrounded by mozzarella heese. li>

4. Slowly dispense foam from cream whipper until the mozzarella balloon forms.
5. Carefully remove the mozzarella filled with foam from the tip, making sure no foam escapes. Close off the open end by twirling the end or pinching it in.

Ever since I started college a couple months ago, I’ve been trying to find a routine, one that will allow me to post on Toastable on a weekly basis. I have yet to find that routine, but I can feel it inching closer and closer. With my first set of midterms over, and more than halfway through my first semester, I’ve gotten a better feel for how to structure my time. (Tip: Don’t go out twice a weekend, every weekend.)

Regardless, I’ve had an amazing experience with food thus far—excluding my rapidly deadening tastes for dining hall food. I’ve taken food photos for the Yale Daily News, joined Yale’s only undergraduate food publication Yale Epicurean, found out that Yale libraries carry Modernist Cuisine—my friend checked it out, and now, I have it on hold—ate at a handful of restaurants, and attempted to make molecular cocktails.

While I can’t delve into everything right now, but here’s a collection of food photos I took while in New Haven. Among them are New Haven establishments such as Pepe’s, Zaroka, Caseus Cheese Trucks, and more.

For the world’s best pastrami sandwich, call 1-800-4HOTDOG. It seems odd that Katz’s Delicatessen, a New York City deli, has settled on a number containing ‘HOTDOG’, when their specialty—since its opening in 1888—is the veritable king of pastrami sandwiches. However, one taste of their flagship product tells all. Katz’s pastrami packs the intense flavors of a gourmet frankfurter with less than half the fat and twice the protein.

In the past century, Katz’s has become a bastion of classic New York City cuisine, alongside places like Gray’s Papaya and Russ & Daughters, and, like the latter, Katz’s delivers its signature product all across the nation. You simply need to go online to satisfy those pastrami cravings.

Katz’s pastrami traditionally comes served on rye bread with not much else, but simplicity is key in drawing out rich flavors. The deep red hue stands bright in the yolk-colored canvas of rye bread, and the savory flavor of pastrami shines uncontested against auxiliary flavors.

The rush of ordering at Katz’s is an experience in and of itself. During lunch hours, a horde of people crowd around the counter to order, while employees diligently slice, stack, and assemble pastrami sandwiches. Forceful yells fly across the air commanding people waiting in one line to distribute evenly into shorter lines, and grunts spring from behind the counter signaling that an order has been made.

At $15.75, Katz’s pastrami sandwich is not cheap, but price reflects popularity—as well as size.

In a couple hours, I’ll be on my way to college. My orientation doesn’t actually start until Friday, but I’m going up there now because of a 4-day pre-orientation backpacking trip. Groups of ten students—eight incoming freshmen and two upperclassmen—can go on various different trips for meeting and greeting at its most basic form—in the wild. I signed up for the trip in Vermont, so we’ll be traversing various mountains, peaks, and densely wooded areas. My backpack is a bit more than half my size and probably weighs about half my weight. Still, I’m looking forward to the trip. After all, who doesn’t enjoy well-earned s’mores after hiking up 45 degree inclines and weathered trails?

After the trip, move-in day occurs immediately after and orientation starts, so I’m not sure when my next post will be. Hopefully, You’ll hear from me in two weeks or so!

However, I’m sure this recipe will tide you over. Crunchy, soft, refreshing, all mixed into one beautiful sandwich. Unlike traditional sandwiches, I forwent the bread in lieu of crisp romaine lettuce. Instead, this sandwich receives a small carb boost from the quinoa simmered in warm Korean BBQ marinade.

A line-up of blanched asparagus adds another dimension of crunch while 48-hour short ribs cooked with the molecular gastronomy technique known as “sous-vide” anchors the sandwich with chewy, meaty texture. Korean BBQ marinade goes a long way in this sandwich, comprising its primary flavors, and with a bit of red pepper paste, the flavors in the sandwich mirror traditional Korean lettuce wraps—ssam.

Recipe: Korean short rib sandwich ssam

• 1 strip of 48-hour short rib (recipe here)
• 2 leaves of Romaine lettuce
• 2 stalks of asparagus cut into two inch pieces
• 1/4 cup quinoa
• 1/2 cup water
• 1/2 cup Korean BBQ marinade (from 48-hour short rib recipe)
• 1 tbsp fermented red pepper paste

1. Cook the 48-hour short ribs using the recipe, or cook short ribs marinated in Korean BBQ marinade on a grill. Cooking the meat sous-vide ensures succulent, soft texture but is not necessary.
2. Cook the cup of uncooked quinoa in the mixture of water and Korean BBQ marinade. Simmering for about 15 minutes usually does the job.
3. Place a leaf of Romaine lettuce on a plate.
4. Smear the red pepper paste on lettuce.
5. Spread some quinoa on top of the red pepper paste and lettuce.
6. Set a few pieces of asparagus on the quinoa, leaving space in between each.
7. Place a strip of short rib on top.
8. Spread some quinoa, this time, on top of the short rib.
9. Set a few more pieces of asparagus on the new layer of quinoa as done before.
10. Cover with a leaf of romaine lettuce.

Today, YourNutritionista.com published an article I wrote on the merits and pitfalls of nutritional guides like the NuVal rating system. These systems serve as guides when buying food by ranking or quantitating their healthiness. Read the article to find out why these guides are just that guides, not the end-all-be-all.

Last Sunday, I made the most wondrous sweet quesadilla ever. Flavors sung to my taste buds like siren and bedazzled my senses like jumping into the pool on a hot summer day. Turns out, craisins, bananas, peanut butter, and agave nectar go really well together. A fine dusting of cacao powder completes the combination by adding a luxurious hint of bitterness amongst the powerful sweet flavors.

I imagine these could become a staple when I go to college next Monday. They’re simple and easy-to-make. You don’t even need heat or any tools besides a knife if you don’t want the quesadilla toasted. Speaking of college though, I leave for New York this week for a short half-week trip, then I go up to New Haven to meet a group of 10 incoming freshmen to go on a backpacking trip together in Vermont. After the half-week vacation in New York and the half-week backpacking trip in Vermont I officially being school as an undergrad. I presume that these few precious days before I leave for New York will be the only time of blissful ignorance I get for a long time. Once I start college, it’s all a race from there—albeit, a race I should enjoy and savor. I wouldn’t be surprised if weekly posts become difficult to keep up on Toastable and I have to revert to bi-weekly, but as the saying goes, “slow and steady wins the race.” Hopefully, I’ll also be able to write about working on a farm, taking photographs for a sustainable food project, or writing about food for college publications! Stay tuned.

As for the recipe, here it is. Enjoy it, and experiment with it. Maybe substitute some chocolate soy nut butter instead of cacao powder. Or substitute—dare I say it—Nutella for cacao powder, but add Nutella in moderation, for it isn’t the healthiest food around. Nutella has a lot of sugar.

Recipe: Craisin breakfast quesadilla

1 serving

• 1 whole-wheat tortilla
• 0.5 banana (about 3-4 inches of a banana)
• 1g cacao powder (0.5 tsp)
• 15g natural peanut butter (1 tbsp)
• 10g agave nectar (1 tsp)
• 20g craisins (1/8 cup)

1. Spread peanut butter on tortilla.
2. Slice banana into 1/4 inch thick circles, and place them on the peanut butter.
3. Drizzle agave nectar on top.
4. Sprinkle craisins and cacao powder on top.
5. Toast in oven until warm or as long as desired.

I’m not one to advocate Japanese teppanyaki restaurants. Oftentimes, they rely on tricks and flashy techniques to create an enticing appeal. However, these tricks quickly lose their glamour, and what’s left is bland, simple food one could easily cook at home. By cooking food at the table, the chef severely limits his abilities of creating complex dishes with interesting flavors. When you’re cooking in front of an audience, you lose the luxury of painstakingly putting together time-consuming dishes. The audience watches, so the clock ticks. Spend too much time on one task, and the show dies, causing the restaurant to appear lackluster. I speak of teppanyaki both as a public service announcement—avoid them—and because my friend Sean recently introduced me to a dining experience similar to teppanyaki. Unlike teppanyaki, however Peking Duck skips the gimmicks.

After waiting two hours for a table—what else would you expect on a Saturday night from a restaurant that garnered over 300 reviews on Yelp while averaging four out of five stars?—my friends and I watched ravenously as a smoking hot roast duck (Peking Duck, $39) arrived at our table. With a stack of plates on hand, an ancient man named Wu began carving delicately thin slices of duck skin and meat. Corroborated by the stoic, focused expression on his face, Wu handled each slice as if they were gold, and to our deprived stomachs, the food certainly looked like gold.

Alas, we could not eat until our waitress, a woman, incorporated all the ingredients that lay mockingly in front of us—shredded cucumbers, hoisin sauce, vibrant spring onions, and thin “pancakes”—into a wrap. Still, part of the joy of eating Peking Duck comes from watching the food fold effortlessly together in front of you.

The finished wrap looked rather plain, but anything can lay hidden beneath that dusty white pancake, so in one giant bite, I devoured the wrap, breaking a torturous long wait. While the roasted duck and spring onions delivered a strong kick of savoriness, watery cucumbers and mildly sweet hoisin sauce played antagonist. A melody of sweet and salty, crunchy and soft, and cool and hot serenaded my tongue. Perhaps it was the two-hour wait, but that first bite was truly bliss.

The 12 small pancakes and medium-sized duck stood no chance against the machine-steady mouths of four teenagers, so even before our three entrees arrived, plates lay bare with smears and spots indicative of ravenously devoured food.

Peking Gourmet Inn. offers an assortment of cookie-cutter Chinese foods including, black pepper beef ($17.50), battered shrimp in sweet ginger sauce ($19.95), and pork with garlic sprouts ($17.50). Capitalizing on the restaurant’s popularity however, the prices run steep for these otherwise ordinary choices.

The black pepper beef walks carefully between the line of over-seasoning and under-seasoning, while sweetness overpowers the aforementioned shrimp dish.

Leaning more towards black pepper beef in flavor, the pork with garlic sprouts harbored a healthy amount of flavor without drowning down the taste of beef.

With practically no windows at all, Peking Gourmet Inn magically transports diners into a different place than the gloomy neighbourhood outside. Portraits of powerful U.S. figures line the wall in military fashion. These portraits tout testimonials of happy customers—including the Bush family—like the favorable reviews by publications posted on the restaurant’s single, curtained window. On a class of its own, there are no substitutes for Peking Gourmet Inn, at least not in this area. Oh, and duck fat has higher percentages of unsaturated fats than other animal fats, so dig in!

Peking Gourmet Inn
6029 Leesburg Pike
Falls Church, VA 22041
(703) 671-8088

Sometimes, choosing the healthier of two foods can be tricky if not impossible. In a contributing post at Your Nutritionista, I give readers the skinny on Potbelly’s two flagship salads, the Uptown and Farmhouse salad. Here’s a hint: In this case, neither salad is definitively healthier than the other, and the healthier choice depends on what you’re looking for in a meal—recovery or fuel.

Here’s a fascinating article by the Wall Street Journal. As China becomes more industrialized like the U.S., the obesity rate of its population has risen also. However, while it is clear that obesity correlates with poverty in the U.S., obesity seems to be most prevalent amongst those who are more wealthy in China. In the U.S., lack of fresh, natural foods and an overabundance of cheap, unhealthy, processed foods drive children and youth to eat unhealthy and gain weight. In China, overeating of quality food in addition to the consumption of less healthy foods contribute to obesity. Sugar calories from fruits add up and become stored as fat, and the benefits of a diet high in fresh foods become negated by overconsumption.

From such “inverse” phenomenon, a few assumptions can be established about the state of eating in China and in the U.S. China must have smaller availability of cheap, unhealthy foods such as fast food restaurants and packaged foods compared to the U.S. Otherwise, obesity would likely correlate with poverty in China as it does in the U.S. This assumes that the poor would be able to afford the supply of cheap, unhealthy foods, thus sending obesity spiraling upwards for the lowest-class population. Furthermore, the fact that people who can afford healthy foods seem to become overweight reveals that the Chinese public lack general health awareness and education that the U.S. has become exceedingly successful in disseminating. In the U.S., the public becomes constantly inundated with the urgency of taking control of one’s own health. T.V. shows such as Biggest Loser portray weight loss as a game where the winners are those who lose the most weight, and as a result, the audience feel compelled to lose weight. After all, we all want to be winners? Furthermore, U.S. figureheads have often dabbled in charitable work regarding health and fitness, including First Lady Michelle Obama, and publications routinely publish stories regarding health and nutrition.

Now, China’s dilemma also provides a takeaway message for everyone who wants to live a healthier lifestyle. Everything is good in moderation, even fruits and vegetables, and don’t let a few servings of vegetable serve as reason to indulge in other less healthy foods because every bite counts. Remember, eating healthy foods does not necessarily mean that you are eating healthy.

EDIT: This The Atlantic article makes the reasonable suggestion that in China, diets high in vegetables may correlate with high consumption of fats, since Chinese cuisine comprises heavily of stir fries.

As a child, I used to hate yogurt. My father would always push me to take a bite whenever he opened up a new cup of yogurt, but I, in my youthful stubbornness, would refuse. Yogurt felt weird and slimy—traits that delegated it to the group of other disgusting foods like tomatoes and oysters.

However, liking for certain foods and experiences are often an acquired taste, and over time, my receptiveness towards yogurt grew stronger. I began eating yogurt more ardently by convinced myself that I was doing my body a favor. After all, my father had always used health as a motivator for me to try yogurt. I even began to enjoy eating certain fruit-flavored “light” yogurts. Of course, these “light and healthy” yogurts were the kind that secretly contained an inordinate amount of sugar.

Five different kinds of bacteria were used to make this yogurt

Eventually, my tastes developed further, and I became a devout follower of strained, natural yogurts—often referred to as Greek yogurts, and to this day, I remain a strong advocate for Greek yogurt. Admittedly, I always add a drizzle of honey or agave nectar, but the combination of plain, unflavored Greek yogurt is still leagues ahead of sugary fruit-flavored ones.Siggi’s is a popular brand of Greek-style yogurt that is not actually Greek. Siggi’s packaging proudly proclaims the yogurt’s Icelandic heritage. In other words, this style of strained yogurt is called ‘skyr.’ Though dissimilar in name, skyr’s use of skim milk during production serves as the only difference between ordinary Greek yogurt and itself— both are strained and form as a result of lactic acid bacteria fermentation of milk. They even rely on the same species of bacteria for fermentation.

Regardless, Siggi’s yogurt usually costs more than other brands of strained yogurts and feels significantly different. Unlike Fage, Chobani, or other popular brands, Siggi’s strains their yogurt so much that the end result feels almost grainy and dry. Initially, I did not like the mouthfeel of Siggi’s; I preferred the viscous, creaminess of Fage, but Siggi’s has slowly become an acquired taste for me. While I still love the traditional, creamy Greek yogurts, Siggi’s extraordinary thickness has its place too. Ironically, the strained yogurt I make at home, normally ends up tasting and feeling like Siggi’s—most likely because I always make my yogurt using nonfat milk.

Notice the incredibly grainy texture of the parted yogurt

Garlic bagel with lox at Whitestone Bagel Factory. Salmon such as the one used in this sandwich may drop in price if AquaBounty's GM Salmon successful achieves commercialization.

I’m in the process of revamping the design of Toastable.com, so things may not appear the way it seems. By that, I mean the sidebar was subjected to “accidental change” when I tested out a new template on the live website. Now, I’m working away at a new design on a local version of my website, so I can freely make changes without fear of ruining the live website—which is what you see here. Expect the new design to go public before the end of August!

1. Smithsonian highlights Modernist cuisine — It seems like the accolades never end for Nathan Myhrvold’s Modernist Cuisine, the $625, six-volume cookbook that weighs more than five newborn babies.
2. Myhrvold makes sales pitch during TED talk — Again, the publicity for Modernist Cuisine never ends. Here, Myhrvold makes a case for why a cookbook like Modernist Cuisine is so revolutionary and overdue.
3. GM Salmon runs into trouble in House — Couple months ago, genetically modified salmon produced by AquaBounty which grow significantly faster than normal salmon was announced to undergo review by the USDA for commercial production. Preliminary findings showed no scientific reason for the salmon to not go commercial. They tasted the same as non-genetically modified salmon and had the same nutritional makeup. Recently however, a move by members of the House pose a threat to the commercialization of the salmon.