Earthquake Sundae

Observe the final offering on the sundae menu. In light of recent events it is a little close to home, to say the least. However, were it not for the fact that the dessert cost $30, and was therefore most likely quite large, I certainly would have sampled it.

(Photo taken at the Ghirardelli store in downtown Chicago this afternoon.)

Perfectly Singed

We've been meaning to try 'Coal Fire' since last summer and finally had an opportunity to last night. The room was crowded with red jerseys, hats, and other paraphernalia. Everyone there except for us seemed to be grabbing a pre-Bulls Game bite to eat.

Our thin, perfectly singed pies were placed atop large steel cans so as not to crowd our table unnecessarily.

This is one of the two pizzas we orders. A white pizza topped with basil and ricotta, it was amazingly light and delectable. I would probably choose this one over our margarita, though I admit it would be a very tough call.

Quintessentially American

On Thursday night, my family and I went to Gene & Georgetti, a place my dad raves about, for dinner. We sat down and ordered what seemed like a reasonable quantity of food: an entrée each and some sides to share.

Then, our meal arrived. Seeing our shock at the shear quantity of it, the waiter joking said something about not wanting to send anyone home hungry. This kind of food was different from our standard restaurant fare. It wasn't served in delicate, artfully arranged, small portions, but rather in huge chunks and slabs. I'm sure that it must have taken an entire shopping bag full of spinach to make our sautéed side.

We left the restaurant with a big bag full of leftovers which, luckily, tasted just as good the next day.

Waffle Heaven

On Blackcomb Mountain, the best place to go for lunch after an intense morning of skiing is indisputably Crystal Hut.

On Tuesday morning, we didn't mess around. After a few tiring treks up Spanky's (see previous post) among other things, we were ready for a hard earned break and some of Crystal Hut's famous waffles.

We entered the Hut and were greeted immediately by the intense aroma of maple and waffles on the iron. I nearly swooned.

How could I resist but to order one of the famous 'Fully Loaded' delicacies?

The World's Best Cranberry Cake

Succulent cranberries atop an utterly delicious yellow cake. The result: a mouthwateringly exquisite combination, Cranberry Upside-down Cake. At least once every fall, sometimes twice, if I'm lucky, we make Cranberry Upside-down Cake. Sometimes we eat it at our Yom Kippur break-fast dinner, but this year we had it as a Thanksgiving treat. Among the other desserts present at our dinner this year, the cranberry cake's popularity was somewhat diminished among our guests. It was not as immaculate-looking as the pumpkin pie. Nor did it look as tender and juicy as the apple pie. No matter, that just meant that there were more leftovers for me!

A Memorable Encounter With Age-Soba

After lunch at the little soba shop I described in my previous post, we couldn't resist buying a bag of their age-soba. Age-soba is the result of frying raw soba noodles. These noodles taste sort of like normal soba, but with a satisfying crunch.

Inaka Soba Lunch

Before leaving Minakami to return to Tokyo earlier this week, we stopped for a late soba lunch. When we walked in the door of the restaurant after 2 pm, it was still bustling with activity. We sat down at a little table that, with our long legs, wasn't all that comfortable to sit at. The little Obasan (old lady) who ran the shop brought us soba-cha (buckwheat tea) and asked us if we were the Smiths. I mean, aren't all gaijin named 'Smith'? We told that we weren't and that we were new to the area.

For my lunch, I ordered ten-zaru soba, cold soba noodles with tempura. I have to say, it was truly delicious. The soba was very good, but it was the tempura that made the meal. The vegetables were incredibly fresh. The batter was unbelievably light. The combination was heavenly. It was the perfect end to our first stay up at Minakami.

Sunday Sushi

Every Sunday afternoon, I walk down to Hiroo, often with Pippi and Mom or Dad. While my parents are busy at the supermarket, I always walk down Hiroo-shotengai (Hiroo shopping street) to a little sushi shop. Every week, without fail, I buy two packs of kappa maki (cucumber rolls), one for dinner, and one for my lunch the next day.

The shop I go to is just a tiny little store front. There is no door and there are no walls between it and the sidewalk. Just simply a glass case filled with packs of sushi, behind that, a cash register, and even further back, a window through which a man making sushi is visible. Every Sunday, I walk up to the glass case, remove two boxes of kappa maki, and place them on the counter with my Y400. The person at the register puts my sushi into a plastic bag and asks me if I want chopsticks. To this, I reply no and just use what I have at home. I am then asked if I want shoyu (soy sauce). I of course answer yes to this every time: last week, this week, next week.

I Discover Falafel

Yesterday at my school's annual FOOD FAIR, I tried falafel for the first time that I can remember. I have always been a pretty picky eater and finally, in the last couple of years, started to branch out. Mom recommended that I try the falafel at the Israeli booth this year, and so I did. As I waited cautiously in line, I watched the people working at the booth place balls of falafel, sesame dressing, and salad into each pita. I though for sure that I would not like the dressing (I rarely like dressing) and decided to ask for mine a minimal amount. When it was my turn, I gave in five tickets and in return received one pita. It seemed to be too late to ask for mine without dressing, so I just decided to go with the flow.

When I took my first bite, I was amazed by how good it was. I though to myself, How have I not tried this before? I could not believe what I had missed out on for all these years. The pita was warm and chewy, the salad was crunchy and delicious, the dressing was mild and creamy and not bad at all, the falafel was crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. The ratios in the combination were perfect. My mouth waters at simply the thought of it, but I guess I'll have to wait until next year for another bite.

A Tale of Two Cakes

Yesterday was my fifteenth birthday. I woke up early, along with the rest of my family and opened my presents before going to cross country practice. (It is one of our traditions to start birthdays by opening presents.) It was raining a little bit, but that didn't matter. It was my birthday, after all! This year, I was lucky enough to have two cakes rather than one on the occasion of my birthday.

My first cake was heart-shaped and chocolate, with pink and white icing. Cassidy made it for me. At morning recess, after Japanese class, I returned to the 9th grade area to find the cake set out on a table. Next to it was Katherine and next to her was Cassidy, brandishing a rather large, sharp-looking knife. I protested, saying that we should save it for lunch but was overruled in a matter of seconds. How could I resist? Although we only had fifteen minutes, the three of us managed to make a sizable dent in the cake, with a bit of assistance. The remainder was strategically concealed under backpacks and sweaters to preserve the rest for lunch. At lunch, only about a quarter of the cake was left. We took turns cutting off slivers and eating them until the whole thing was gone. Unfortunately, Eve came down to where we were just a couple minutes after we had devoured the final pieces. Needless to say, all that was left were the crumbs and some little globs of icing.

My second cake was a yellow cake with rich chocolate icing. My family and I ate this cake after a delicious dinner at home. The recipe for this cake came from my mother's all time favorite dessert cookbook. I'm not usually one for cake, but whenever we make this one, I simply can't defy the instinct to wolf down a piece. The cake was rich, but not too much so. The icing was even richer. We of course had to eat it with vanilla ice cream. On top of the a thick layer of icing, the words Happy Birthday Abby were written. Above that, some little rainbow sprinkles were scattered. Around the edge were 16 candles. (Another of our birthday traditions is to add an extra candle for good luck.) I didn't quite manage to blow out all 16 in one breath, but there's always next year, when I can try one more time with one more candle.

My Meal of White

All day today, I've been trying to come up with a good subject for today's post. I didn't come up with an idea that I was happy with until I was waiting for Dad at the cash register in Media Supermarket. In one hand I was holding tofu and in the other I was holding a square-shaped cheese. I looked down and noticed that they were both white. Then it came to me! I was going to write a blog entry about an entirely white meal. When we went to the gelato store, I specifically chose a white flavor to complete my dinner.

I recently discovered tofu when I snuck a bite Mom's a few months ago. Since then, I have only eaten one brand of tofu. That is, until tonight. Tonight I decided to be adventurous, and purchased a different type. Unfortunately, my experiment did not exactly go as planned. The tofu was a little bit too watery and silky for my taste. Oh well, I'll just have to repeat the investigation.

The next element of repast was the cheese. This cheese was almost a perfect cube, a rather unusual shape, in my opinion. The cheese had a nice mild flavor and I think that the rest of my family liked it too.

Now for dessert. The gelato flavor that I chose was cookie-framboise. I'd never seen this type before, and was curious to try it. The name was appealing, after all. This flavor had a white ice cream base (not vanilla, I'm not sure exactly what it was). It had a little bit raspberry sauce mixed in and had crushed chocolate-chip cookie on top of it, too. It was mind-bogglingly delicious.

Delicate and Delicious

Last night, Eve, Dad, and I went out to dinner at one of my absolute favorite restaurants: Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi is a relatively fancy sushi restaurant in Roppongi. Whenever we go there, we always sit at the counter, on the corner. In my opinion, these are the best seats because you can see exactly what the chef is doing. It's quite fascinating. Also, the best chef is always situated right in front of us, a great advantage. My favorite thing to watch is when the chef cuts the cucumber for kappa maki. Holding the cucumber still with one hand, the chef gently swings his incredibly sharp knife back and forth so that it penetrates the cucumber's skin and cuts it right through into slices almost as thin as paper. It is a wonder that the chef can control the knife so perfectly that it never cuts him.

I like kappa maki, but they are not my first preference at Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi makes two types of sushi that are so delectable that they have the capacity to induce mouthwatering daydreams. Believe me, I've been on their receiving end. One of these types is takuan maki. Takuan is a type of Japanese pickle with a stunningly bright yellow color. The takuan at Fukuzushi is unusual. It has other things, such as shiso, mixed into it, making the flavor all the more delicious.

The other type of I sushi that I really like features salmon skin. For this sushi, the chef takes the skin and a thin layer of flesh off of a piece of salmon and cooks it through. Then, this cooked salmon skin, along with cut up cucumber and sesame seeds, is put on top of rice and rolled up in a piece of nori (seaweed). Thinking about this dish makes me sigh with longing. I wonder how it will be before Dad takes me back there . . .

A Little Bit of France Tucked Away in Shibuya

Yesterday Mom and I went out to lunch at what would probably qualify as one of my favorite restaurants. I have loved this place ever since I first ate there, a few years back. Everytime I visit this little restaurant, a French creperie slipped into the back streets of Shibuya, I am almost transported to another place, another time. It would be difficult for someone to stumble upon Au Temps Jadis without meaning to. Not only is this shop hidden down a narrow side street but, the entrance is not right on street level. Customers first encounter a gate leading from the road to a brick staircase. At the base of the stairs is the doorway to the restaurant. Standing in the entryway, I always feel like I'm looking into another world. The small wooden tables are covered in red checked cotton cloth. The furnishings are rustic and picturesque. The kitchen is hardly separated from the dining area and a woman can be seen making crepes in a giant fry pan above a half height wall.

Upon entering, Mom and I sit down at right up against the window, where we can peer outside at the adjoining courtyard. We hardly glance over our menus before ordering. Having been here so many times, we know exactly what we want. I order my usual savory crepe filled with scrambled eggs, cheese, and tomatoes. Mom sticks to a salad, saving her appetite for the dessert crepes to come. Personally, I think I can handle both.

When it comes time to order my desert crepe, I am really in a dilemma. My usual choice is a crepe filled and dressed with chocolate and hazelnut and almond paste. This is topped off with a scoop of caramel ice cream. However, today another incredibly appetizing selection jumps out at me: a crepe with caramel and salty butter. Mom is in the same pickle. In the end, we decide to get both and split them evenly.

When our food came, we knew that we had made the right decision.