eater's digest: lucky rice night market

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

As someone who has never been lucky enough to travel to Asia, I've always been intrigued by tales of nighttime markets that sell sizzling dishes to the hungry throngs. Fortunately for me, Lucky Rice, an annual, Manhattan-based celebration of Asian culture and cuisine, is bringing the night market (along with a number of other exciting events) to 5 major cities across the US.

Cocktail waitresses served gin cocktails and beer to guests arriving at the night market.

New York was the first city on this gastro-culinary tour, with the night market taking place at Chelsea's Maritime Hotel. As the sun set slowly over the Hudson, the evening light spilled through the atrium ceiling, and hanging lanterns started to glow.

Talde's Lemongrass Chicken with Spicy Peanuts, Romaine and Fresh Herbs

The first dish we sampled was Talde's comforting lemongrass chicken with crunchy romaine, a more mellow, richly flavored take on the intense spice of traditional thai larb.

From there, we moved on to the most tongue-numbing dish of the night, Family Recipe's "Soy Vay Teriyaki" Pork Jowl Maze Ramen—a seemingly innocent (and surprisingly creamy) noodle dish that packed the punch of sichuan peppercorns.

One of our early favorite plates was Qi Thai Grill's Ovaltine Pork Ribs, an unusual riff on the flavors of mole, which fell off the bone beautifully. Ginny's Supper Club's pork belly bun proved that celebrated chef Marcus Samuelsson can tackle just about any global cuisine. The addition of super-crunchy, almost caramelized chiccarones and pickled slaw off-set the dish's rich texture with a refreshing crunch.

But of all the dishes we sampled that night, two stood out in particular: Pok Pok's Sai Ua Chiang Mai Sausage and Spice Market's Shaved Tuna. The former was the most balanced and complex bite of the evening, combining the spiced umami of sausage with the crunch of bitter cabbage and chiccarones, the sweetness of squash and the spice of burmese curry.

PokPok's winning sausage dish

Spice Market's tuna was served in a coconut broth, with tapioca pearls and asian pear. Packing just a touch of heat, it was the most refreshing (and dessert-like) bite at the market—the perfect way to conclude such an intensely flavorful evening.

Spice Market's sweet Shaved Tuna

eater's digest: boulette's larder

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

When I was growing up, I would do anything I could to avoid eating breakfast. It wasn't for a lack of hunger. Rather, I disliked the foodstuffs that made up this iconic meal. Scrambled eggs made me nauseous. Toast, pancakes and waffles, a bit bland. Even my 5th grade invention convention entry spelled it out: a "sog-no-more" cereal bowl, crusading against soggy breakfast. On weekends, I opted for leftover chili or other savory foods.

So when 101 Cookbooks recommended I eat this most mundane of meals at Boulette's Larder, I didn't even consider it. But my sister (older and, in this instance, wiser) noted the tip.

Our trip to San Francisco was a last minute plan, sprung from a work trip to the annual IACP conference. Being that I haven't been to SF since I was 13, I enthusiastically tacked on a few days vacation to fully explore the city, and Lauren was all too happy to come along.

Breakfast at Boulette's, which I experienced twice - on my first and last days in the city - is nothing short of a revelation. I try to reserve such seeming exaggerations for true stunners, and this is one of them.

From the dreamy open kitchen - complete with copper pots and other elegant details - to the intentionally brief, curated menu, everything was rave worthy. The nauseating scrambled eggs of my youth are not remotely the same species as the impossibly light and creamy eggs at Boulette. Drizzled with lemon or mandarine oil and served with a dollop of fresh chevre, they were the single dish for which I returned a second time.

The sheep's milk yogurt and quinoa granola that I sampled the first time were also more than noteworthy. Extra-tangy, luxurious yogurt was served with a nutty, crunchy crumble of home-toasted grains and seeds. It's hard to describe how something so simple can be so exquisite, but that's the essence of Boulette's.

Perhaps the most fun thing to order is the many-grain porridge, which is served with an assortment of little wooden boxes, offering nuts, seeds and dried fruits, such as currants. While these three stand-bys tend to be offered in different iterations each day, the extended menu changes constantly, based on the local offerings in the market.

As for the ambiance, the unusually tall and elegant waiters are as pleasant as the food, and the prime communal table seating offers a front-row view into the kitchen. Housed in the Ferry Building, which also hosts the city's best farmer's market, there is little not to love about Boulette's.

If I had to offer one critique, it would be of the restaurant's sweets. Both the brown sugar/kumquat and the lemon meringue tarts (which I bought on other mornings for breakfast) were a bit too sweet for my liking. It's not that they were saccharine, but rather that the tart citrus accent I had hoped for was muted by other elements. That said, the textures, crust and meringue of both tarts were among the best I've ever eaten. So if you've a sweeter tooth than I, do dig in.

Boulette's Larder
1 Ferry Building Marketplace
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 399-1155

eater's digest: buvette

There are some restaurants that fit like a glove. Barely through the door, even without seeing the menu, you sense familiarity. It's not quite déjà vu, because you've rarely seen this before - your kind of restaurant, manifested in the flesh.

Now that doesn't mean this is the best restaurant you've ever eaten in. Of course, it has to be great. But a restaurant that feels like you imagined it yourself is not a constant succession of "wow!" moments. Like Alice in Wonderland, you've tried the bottles that made you bigger and smaller. That was good fun, but this is the bottle that will turn you back to "just right".

Getting to the point, this restaurant - for me, in New York - is Buvette. The first time I went there, I had only a glass of wine and two small plates, but that was enough. From then on, I called it "my favorite restaurant in New York". Sure, I cock my head to think after saying it, knowing I've had more earth-shaking meals elsewhere, but that's not the point.

The point is the charm, the desire to return, again and again. The waiters and bar staff that range from pleasantly gruff to more than accommodating, all dressed in dapper ties and half-aprons. The random assortment of ceiling mirrors that reflect the hustle and bustle of the small space. The conscious and obvious eaves-dropping of the conversations around you. The bathroom whose haphazard "je ne sais quoi" qualities make you wish you had brought your camera.

But for all my affection, it was just this month that I ate a full, proper meal at Buvette. I brought along one of my favorite eaters - a friend whose wealth of cultural experiences has not dampened her enthusiasm for simpler pleasures (case in point: her favorite food is macaroni and cheese). I introduced her to brandade de morue, a long-time provencale favorite of mine. Buvette's was an appropriate balance of creamy and light, briny and balanced. We followed with more seafood, an octopus salad with celery that stunned with its simplicity. If there was a dish of food to eat every day it might be this. Tender, crunchy, refreshing, textural.

As for sides, I insisted on poireaux. To get properly cooked leeks is always a pleasure, and these were cooked in the traditional French vinaigrette style, tender (but not mushy) with an ample dose of whole grain moutarde. As for the cauliflower gratin (chosen by Ms. Mac n' Cheese), it was a reminder of this overlooked vegetable's myriad magical qualities. I'll take mashed, steamed, pureed or roasted cauliflower over the omnipresent potato any day.

And then, the pièce de résistance. I had heard rumors about this chocolate mousse - that it was whipped by hand in copper bowls to achieve a most wonderful texture. However, I could never have imagined what I was about to experience. Luxurious, dense, creamy, resistant and yet yielding - I'm not sure you can even legitimately call it mousse. It's too intense to eat alone, even with its dollop of exquisite whipped cream. The essence of dessert, hailing from a time before we decided to emulate the hyper-sweet, high fructose corn syrup universe in which we currently live. In short - and in summary - it's not to be missed.