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Thinking I still won't be able to post from these parts, but wanted to keep you up to date on my trip nonetheless... Hitting Beijing today. Plan on checking out the must-do sites, from the Forbidden City to the Great Wall, but I'm also excited to take the insider's hutong walking tour, an intensive tea appreciation class, and a guided venture into the city's famed Night Markets, where I'm sure to spy Scorpion-on-a-Stick and feel all sortsa Andrew Zimmern!
Right about now, I should be camped out at my pal Amelia's pad in Shanghai. Understand that the "Great Fire-Wall of China" will prevent me from posting updates as I travel through mainland China, but promise to fill you in on my adventures in soup dumplings, tea plantations and Shanghai tailors, once I'm back in the States...
I think I've figured it out. Hong Kong is New York on steroids with a dollop of Vegas thrown in for good measure. Mix that up with a hefty helping of Old World Chinese alleyways and temples, and you've pretty much got the picture.
But I couldn't really get the picture until I left Hong Kong Island and made my way to Kowloon via the Star Ferry.
Once deposited on the other side of the harbor, Hong Kong took on a mesmerizing light-brite form and looked more like a glittering tinker-toy of delights and sin than a throbbing, hard-jamming metropolis.
I couldn't get enough of that view. I took it in again at the Penisula Hotel's legendary Felix Bar, then moved on for more of it at One Peking Road's uber-hip sky-high Aqua Spirit.
I didn't want to let the skyline go. So, I didn't. I simply took the One Peking Road elevator one flight down to 28 to partake of gourmet Chinese fare at Hutong, as I continued to gape at the sparkling vision that is Hong Kong at night.
That said, the food was so amazing that I did take my eyes away from the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows long enough to appreciate the kitchen's signature dish -- Crispy Hutong-style Deboned Lamb Ribs, meaty and crackingly fine...
I wrapped them up in delicate pancakes with shards of white scallion and a bit of tart vinegar, a la Peking Duck.
Oh, my! Where in God's name can I find this delicacy in New York?!? Clearly, I'll be on a mission once I get home.
Until then, though, I'm on a mission to explore and explore and explore...
The 16-hour flight was a doozy, but I made it to Hong Kong fairly unscathed, checking into the glistening, refurbished Mandarin Oriental, ready for full-on pampering. The black silk robe and hot jasmine tea in my room started things on the right foot and then before the jet lag forced me straight into bed, I forced myself to wander.
Surprise, surprise! I wandered my way into a bar -- the glam MO Bar at the Mandarin Oriental's sister property, the Landmark. A stiff drink and meet-n-greet with a lovely gent sitting aside and suddenly I had a companion and an appetite.
Comfort fare was the order of the night and eventually we hit upon the perfect dinner -- Wonton & Dumpling Noodle Soup at Mak's Noodle Shop, a famed purveyor of slurpy Cantonese noodle soups (said noodle soup seen above).
Yum.
Sated, I was still a bit wobbly from the time difference and bid my dinner date adieu and decided to partake in the Mandarin Oriental's "jet lag massage" before making my way to bed.
Good call.
The Mandarin Oriental's spa is luxe on top of luxe and the massage left me as happily limp as one of Mak's noodles.
Needless to say, I slept like a log.
This morning, I woke up refreshed, ready to take on the city. Unfortunately, the city had other plans for me. Before I was going anywhere, I'd have to make it through the rat race.
Part of a bizarre charity event called The Central Rate Race, the streets were full to overflowing with cheering onlookers as a series of odd contests ensued -- all involving inflatable Swiss Cheese.
Not exactly the swank Chinoise experience I was looking for on my vacation. And, I thought the fact that Mickey Mouse had infiltrated in the form of Hong Kong Disneyland was bad enough...
Oh, well.
It was quickly put out of my mind as I ducked into one of Hong Kong's premiere dim sum halls, Maxim's City Hall, a buzzy, clattering restaurant with a breathtaking view of Kowloon and the harbor, as well as exquisite tidbits like Steamed Chicken with Fish Maw, Veal Ribs with Black Pepper Sauce and Steamed Shrimp Dumplings...
Stuffed to the gils, I hailed a cab and ventured to one of Hong Kong's most beloved landmarks - the race track - the Happy Valley Racecourse to be exact. Apparently, Hong Kong residents are race-crazy. And, sitting amongst a few thousand of them on a gloriously sunny day with the sight of magnificent thoroughbreds zooming by I could see why...
Next? A ferry ride to Kowloon to take in the Hong Kong skyline laser show and a taste of life on the other side of the harbor.
No matter the economy, there will always be those grande dames that are willing to fork it over for a world-class nip and tuck. According to fashion's own must-read, WWD, such is the case with Tribeca's heralded Bouley.
The big question is whether or not with Wall Street at an all-time low, if the restaurant's new "lift" will generate a full dining room. That said, if the pictures are to be believed, this ole gal is looking mighty good these days. Perhaps good enough to attract what Sugar Daddies will be left on the market floors to keep the tables turning until the tide changes in the economy.
The leaves are turning copper, gold and crimson and the season of hunkering down with a good book nears.
Luckily, I have many a culinary tome awaiting. From the highly anticipated look at modern molecular gastronomy god Ferran Adria, "Day at ElBulli," to a scientific investigation behind what we toss down our gullets, "Food Bites," I have quite a collection of tasty reads ahead of me.
I'm also look forwarding to perusing the pages of "Secrets of the Red Lantern," a Vietnamese family memoir that weaves authentic recipes within the heartfelt tales of war and renewal.
Straightforward cookbooks are also in the mix, including the lush "Things Cooks Love" and the baking guide from Brooklyn's own dessert doyenne Melissa Murphy, "The Sweet Melissa Baking Book."
But later this week, a little literary treasure is coming my way, courtesy of my publishing world pal Bethanne -- a signed copy of "Serve the People: A Stir-Fried Journey Through China." This is surely the book I will be reading on Friday when I board my flight bound for Cathay. And hopefully, after finishing the last chapter, I'll be well-prepared for stir-frying my own journey through Hong Kong, Shanghai and Beijing!
After my last posting, extolling the virtues of "the other white meat," figure I ought to cover my bases with the man upstairs. So, thought I'd feature a link to today's New York Times Magazine article, "Kosher Wars," taking a look at a new generation of Jews who are trying to imbue Kosher eating with concerns about sustainability and social-justice.
Hopefully this'll put me back on even footing, until I start writing once again about Pig's Feet, Ham Hocks and such.
There's nothing like finishing off the Yom Kippur day of atonement and fasting with a post about trayfe -- pork to be exact. I have a hard tiem getting around a gorgeous slab of pancetta or strips of crisp bacon be called sin. Fattening? Artery-clogging? Yes. Sin? No.
How can you call the marvel that was the recent special of Roasted Suckling Pig at Craft a sin?
Just take a look at said porcine wonder above. Succulent doesn't even begin to describe this oinker.
Then, take a gander at Dressler's Cider-Braised Pork Shank. Okay, you can't really take a gander at it, cause it disappeared so quickly at a pal's dinner party the other night that I didn't get a chance to take a snapshot. But trust me: It was a shank of rich, fall-off-the-bone beauty. And I can't believe that anything that exquisite could be wrong in the eyes of the Lord.
But, on the off chance that it is, I did just come off of my annual Judaic 24-hour fasting, penitance spree. I'm free and clear for the moment -- but only the moment. I'm sure a divine Pulled Pork Sandwich or BBQ-Glazed Pork Ribs will tempt me back into sin. And I am sure to succumb.
Yum. Sin tastes good.
I knew it all along. Tiki drinking is "in." So "in" in fact, that tiki cocktails in all their rum-soaked kitschy glory were served at my "Lost" parties a while back. Now, the Wall Street Journal says that these Polynesian pearls are making the rounds around the rest of the country:
With the much-repeated words "worst financial crisis since the Great Depression" marking the moment, it seems appropriate to visit that peculiarly American escape -- the tiki bar -- itself born in the depths of the Depression. It was in 1934 that Donn Beach (né Ernest Raymond Beaumont-Gantt) opened Don the Beachcomber in Los Angeles, starting a craze that took roughly 50 years to fizzle. The time seems ripe for a Polynesian Pop revival -- and, in fact, it's already under way.
Starting Thursday, and going through next Sunday, tikiphiles will be descending on the San Francisco Bay area for the eighth annual Tiki Bar Crawl. The Bay Area was one of the original hot spots of tikiana: Victor Bergeron owned an Oakland barbecue place called Hinky Dinks; after visiting Don the Beachcomber's place in L.A., Bergeron promptly bedecked his restaurant with tiki carvings, bamboo and outrigger canoes and rechristened it "Trader Vic's." The Bay area is still home to a remarkable number of tiki bars, big and small, old and new. That's why the community of tiki fanatics -- who normally gather online at aficionado Hanford Lemoore's Web site, www.tikiroom.com -- make San Francisco and Oakland their destinations to meet and drink in person. Go to www.tikicrawl.com to find out when and where to join them...
Guess I'm a trend setter.
Zombie anyone?
Soccer Moms? Hockey Moms? Wal-mart Moms?
I think not.
After reading a recent Los Angeles Times story, my spidey sense is telling me that it is the Brewsky Babes that McCain and Obama should be targeting:
Ladies, fire up your brew pots and polish those carboys. Your pint glasses are waiting.
Women have recently become more visible in the home-brewing world as novice and veteran home-brewing aficionadas are joining online forums, networking, entering competitions, even starting their own women-only home brew clubs.
I'm sure Governor Palin's crackerjack advisors are already considering whether or not she should start one of these clubs up in Alaska.
You betcha!