A string of pearls with your sandwich?

The storefront lures you to its jewelry

Quick bites while sitting on the shop's
only piece of furniture;
did this lad encounter a hot pepper?

The banh mi Saigon pork, dissected

I like to describe Chinatown as an otherworldly landscape for foodies. Where else in Manhattan can one find eight dumplings for a dollar? Softshell crabs sold by the bucket? Malaysian cafes competing against traditional Chinese eateries? The occasional alligator feet jutting out among the iced boxes of fish? (This is a fact!) Another unique feature in Chinatown is the double entendre known as Banh Mi Saigon Bakery, a jewelry shop that harbors a Vietnamese banh mi sandwich counter in the back. The juxtaposition is both charming and hysterical especially when you witness the stark aesthetic difference between the candy-colored jewelry displays and the plain trappings of the sandwich counter. The onslaught of sparkling rocks and iridescent beads may lure the unsuspecting customer to its array of snacks, but those in the know head straight to the back counter, dismissing all the bling. On this Saturday afternoon, the place was overflowing with banh mi lovers elbowing each other for a spot in line and vying for space on Saigon Bakery's lone bench. Banh mi varieties dominate the menu of course, with a shrimp papaya salad and special Vietnamese beverages also available for the taking (eg: the trademark iced coffee made with a head rushing sweetened condensed milk).

Matt, my mom and myself each toted home the banh mi Mi Saigon pork sandwich, a gargantuan foot or so of succulent meats and fresh veggies. All the necessary components got stuffed into a crunchy yet chewy baguette: pickled shreds of carrot and daikon, bright green cilantro and cucumbers, slices of deadly but somehow satisfying slices of hot peppers (they're even more of a jolt when you encounter them mid-way through your banh mi), slices of deli pork spread with smooth house mayo and the bonus, grilled pieces of pork that possessed both sweet and salty characteristics. This final ingredient was too much meat for me to wrestle with; I think next time, I'll stick to the traditional banh mi pate cha. Even just half of the sandwich can fill you up, making this thrifty $3.75 meal a two-part series. I appreciate both the whimsy and simple, yet sensational culinary output of Banh Mi Saigon Bakery. If you yearn to be playful with your loved ones, surprise them with something special from the jewelry store, only this gift will come in the form of a giant Vietnamese sandwich and not a chunky jade ring.

Strands of beads share real estate with morsels of pork

A line of salivating banh mi lovers

Banh Mi Saigon Bakery
138 Mott St.
New York, NY 10002
Ph: 212-941-1541
Web site: N/A

The souffle that stopped me from attending the Chocolate Show

During the last week of October, I faced sleepless nights, paced the dining room floor like a madwoman, bit my nails to the core and even gazed out the window with a vacant expression. With dramatic gestures such as these, you'd think I was nervously anticipating the results of a major academic entrance exam. Instead, I was grappling with the thought of weather or not I should attend NYC's 12th annual Chocolate Show on November 1. Years past, I was never diligent enough to retain the date. This year, I was on it like, well, chocolate on strawberries. But as a stalwart member of the funemployed, funds must be used wisely. The sticker price of $28 actually wasn't bad for a day of chocolate sampling and culinary demonstrations. I adore chocolate as much as the next sweet freak, but how much of it could I actually inject without gagging to oblivion? Would I plunk down the $28 only to later discover I'd have enough after a nibble of a dark chocolate bar, then a gulp of white chocolate latte? I literally unearthed the answer to my dilemma when I stabbed my fork into Trattorria Dopo Teatro's chocolate souffle two days before the show. The stream of chocolate inside oozed out like lava. I dipped a piece of the cake into this glistening liquid and popped the dangerous duo into my mouth. Whoa. It was rich as a classic chocolate souffle should be. But this version was a little too rich. Even a swipe of the vanilla bean ice cream couldn't placate the richness. Ugh, this dessert immediately turned me off from chocolate. I decided right then and there to defect from the Chocolate Show. Problem solved. I saved myself $28 and the humiliating possibility of featuring abstract art of chocolate on my face knowing how sloppy I can get.



Trattorria Dopo Teatro
125 W. 44th St.
New York, NY 10036
Ph: 212-869-2849
Web site: www.dopoteatro.com

Windswept at Vento

Prix Fixed dinner for only $24.07

A recent rare visit to the Meatpacking District brought me to meet friends at Vento, a pizza-slice shape of a brick building that sits prominently on the cobblestoned corners of Hudson and 14th streets. My jeans and sneakers clad self is not used to the glammed up setting of this glitzy neighborhood, where lads sporting fitted vests come armed with ladies balancing themselves in Chrysler Building high stilettos. So I entered Vento's with some trepidation. But unlike the neighboring Pastis, 5 Ninth and Spice Market, Vento's is pretty basic in its appearance. Furniture is a simple set of squared tables and chairs and the exposed brick walls are void of pretentious artwork. The crowd looked like a mix of Manhattanites and business travelers. No one seemed to be outlandishly dressed.

Polpette meatballs

Our hostess led our crew of seven to the spacious second floor. I immediately began to resent our waiter the moment he arrived at our table; he appeared to be late-teenish, brought forth a buff physique and seeped a sunny and energetic personality. To be young and spry again! But never mind...time to concentrate on the menu and not the differences between the "haves and have-nots." Vento's line-up is purely rustic Italian fare. You can mix and match a plate of artisanal Italian cheese with meats or munch on Vento's acclaimed wood fire oven'ed pizza. If a more elegant meal is in order, choose from the restaurant's array of homemade pastas, seafood dishes and meaty options. And of course, no Italian eatery can't exist without a wine menu. This one boasts a killer list of 200 plus vino. Vento's pricetags are down-to-earth as they are, but the restaurant provides an even more incredible bargain with its prix fixed dinner package which allows you to choose from a bundle of starters, the entrees and the sweet endings. Since I was feeling rather famished this evening I went ahead with nabbing this $24.07 extravaganza.

Whole wheat tagliatelle

Our boy wonder raved passionately with that peppy attitude of his about the polpette (Sicilian meatballs) so this meaty appetizer launched my meal. These rotund balls were served in an adorable mini iron pan, covered with a heavy zesty sauce and a mound of gooey mozzarella. The texture? Velvety soft. The flavor? A hedonistic blend of what tasted like beef and pork. These meatballs set a hearty stage for what was next, my whole wheat tagliatelle. The ribbons of al dente pasta bathed in a romanesco ragout, comparable to a pesto sauce, that was sprinkled with toasted pine nuts and roasted red peppers. The menu described that it was to come with cauliflower, but the supply must've been depleted as stalks of broccoli were added to this pasta. Color palette wise, the green of the broccoli better suited the green sauce. As intrepid of an eater I can be, I still couldn't finish this heavy dish so I boxed the rest of it home (and shamelessly devoured it later in the early a.m.; apparently, my hunger rose from the dead). Vento provides you three options of dessert to select from: ricotta cheesecake, gelato or sorbet. I like to experiment with unusual ingredients and flavors, of course, so I couldn't resist trying the salted caramel gelato. It was dropped into a kiddish paper cup; I loved the sweet and salty combination, but wished the portion itself wasn't so kiddish like its serving dish. However, this smidge was enough to remove the savory flavors leftover on my tongue.

Salted caramel gelato

And talk about foodies who eat alike. My dining companions all ordered from one of the following: the whole wheat tagliatelle, the manicotti alla zucca or the ravioli with spinach and ricotta cheese. Our stomachs were definitely ladened with a weighty pasta cargo later that night. I'm eager to be windswept at Vento's again, especially to sample its Sunday/Monday night special-pizza or pasta with a glass of wine for only $12.95. Perhaps next time I'll slip on the stilettos.

The magnificant seven

Vento
675 Hudson St. at 14th St.
New York, NY
Ph: 212-699-2400
Web site: www.brguestrestaurants.com/restaurants/vento/index.php

Venturing to the dark side

On a glum weekday night when the only source of entertainment was the tv, I found myself in the mood to swill back a glass of wine. I didn't want to pop open an entire bottle on this solitary evening, so the compact serving of the Dark Side saved me from a round of excessive pampering. This was one of South African Airways' complimentary selections of wine, which I managed to tuck into my bag and bring stateside. Sinister like its name? By no means. Crafted by Cloof Wines, in South Africa's Darling region, the 2007 version is heavy on the cabernet sauvignon and blended with a dose of shiraz. Its hue is a gorgeous deep ruby. The flavor, that only a green oenophile such as myself can muster in description, is rich in mouth-watering blackberries and spiked with hints of aromatic vanilla. Venturing to the dark side never tasted so luscious.

Marula in a bar

Chilling in my fridge for the past few months was a bar of milk chocolate injected with a dose of the heavenly marula cream, the exotic liqueur made with the fermented fruit of the African marula tree. It served as a fitting supplement to the Amarula, my first bottle practically down to its final ounce. The second bottle is sitting full and stoic on my baker's rack. Created by a South African confectionary called Beyers, the Marula bar comes snugly wrapped in a beige package festooned with images of the lush tree. Each block of chocolate features an engraved elephant, an appropriate "charm," considering this critter loves the fermented fruit and supposedly gets intoxicated from it. I anticipated the marula to ooze out like Caramello, but instead, it stayed intact upon my initial bite because the texture is grainy like marzipan. The chocolate itself was milky and creamy. Just a handful of speedy chomps and this bar was gone. Fortunately, the liquid form of marula is still bountiful.

Blushing over Pinkberry

It takes me awhile to warm up to frozen yogurt (no pun intended). I'm usually not inclined to savor its tart personality, but on occasion, I'll yield to it. Leslie was in town from Guyana, a land plentiful of roti and plantains, but not a frozen yogurt purveyor in sight. She was nostalgic for this golden treat, so after a late afternoon snack of dumpling soup and fried dumplings, we dove into a Pinkberry branch in Koreatown. It's a bright, stunning enclave, outfitted with stylish contemporary furniture, more specifically, bubbly pendant lamps by Poul Christiansen, transluscent orange and green chairs by Philippe Starck and white mod-like tables by Eeros Saarinen.

The jovial counter boys handed out mini spoonfuls of flavor samples. I fancied the subtle coconut yogurt, but Leslie felt the passionfruit yogurt possessed more zing. In dire economic times such as this, when you yearn for both quality and quantity, Pinkberry can serve as your refuge. Because you get to drool over not just one, not even just two, but an unlimited number of toppings that the serving cup can support without anything toppling over. Pinkberry's lovely platoon of garnishes include Fruity Pebbles, Orea cookies, bananas, strawberries, kiwi, cranberries and pomegranite seeds among others. Even our small order of yogurt emerged as a generous size of frozen swirl. Just how many toppings could we get our accommodating counter boys to adorn it with? My greedy self wanted him to smother the yogurt with all the colorful morsels glistening behind the glass but my sensible side deduced that such overkill would most likely produce a rather icky taste and gut-wrenching sensation. I narrowed my decor to a surprisingly color-pleasing set of Captain Crunch cereal, sugared gummy bears, white chocolate chips and mochi. All the flavors melded well together and sweetly complemented the yogurt's coconut taste. I loved the tiny cubes of mochi the best; the texture was soft and chewy and the coating was slightly dusty. Compared to Leslie's healthier toppings of mochi, blueberries, raspberries and mango, my sugary, caloric tower was certainly something to blush pink about.

Ya ya for Yawa

Roll combo of spicy tuna, salmon and avocado
and eel cucumber for a heart-stopping $15

On the stretchy journey from the East Village to the 9th Street PATH stop, I always pass Sushi Yawa on 8th Street, give it a quick once-over and shrug aloofly. Eerily dark and still, the sushi joint is usually barren minus the scattering of heads bobbing over their sashimi and soy sauce. It always seems so actionless and downright depressing. Quiet, however, doesn't always equal low quality. After yet another solo happy hour at neighboring North Square Lounge, I decided to dip into the sullen Yawa for the first time. North Square's tuna tartare presented itself in its normal lustrous ways, but I was yearning for more raw fish. Even on a Friday evening, Yawa was still its lonely self, a perfect parallel to my solitary sushi outing. I was tempted to park myself at the bar but I had engaged in enough brooding at the North Square. Feeling at ease with my "oneness," I slid into one of Yawa's stylish booths, two cozy couples only leaps away and a trio of undergrad-looking gals nearby giggling over their Japanese delights and most likely, a recap of The City.

The ever-desolate Sushi Yawa

Sushi Yawa's menu is not strictly Japanese, which can be disappointing to those who stand by the one-theme rule, but advantageous to those who like to choose from a variety of Asian dishes. Pad thai aficianados will find their favorite peanutty noodles here while spice lovers will rejoice over Yawa's collection of curry dishes and sambal fried rice. I stayed true to my sushi craving. Yawa's special rolls are quirkier in name than most of the ones I've come across (rainbow, dragon, and the like). An Alaskan Beauty roll sashays down the plank as king crab and cucumber with salmon on top, for example, and a Spicy Boy roll struts out as the same king crab and cucumber only gussied up with pepper tuna, wasabi tobiko and a chili sauce. Bargain-minded, I ordered one of Yawa's roll combinations: 18 pieces of spicy tuna, salmon and avocado, and eel cucumber for only $15. The quintessential choice of miso soup or salad accompanies this cost-savings meal. I only wish I had opted for the salad instead of the soup. Yawa's brew was tepid in temperature and didn't possess enough of that familiar miso salty punch. It was a soup to scoff off, but fortunately, the main players for the evening made up for the miso's performance with their fresh deliciousness. On a sleek glass plate that could pass as an ice sculpture, my rolls stood ready and willing for human consumption, a decorative banana leaf resting beneath them. Most sushi places that offer combo deals will produce rolls rather compact in stature, but Yawa churns out some rather monumental pieces (attack of the killer maki roll movie, anyone?). Each tuna, salmon, eel and even the supporting avocado and cucumber were cut in prominent chunks, giving you extra bang for your buck. Tuna came dressed with the right about of blood-curdling spice, the eel was cooked to flaky perfection and the salmon melted in my mouth with its velvety texture. All 18 pieces effortlessly made their slinky way down the hatchet. Initially, I felt sheepish for finishing off this raw set so ravenously and passionately. What a spoiled glutton, I thought to myself. I didn't dare lift my lowered eyes to face the surely incredulous expressions of the nearby staff. Gradually, I grew proud of my accomplishment, and transformed my blushed look to a smug confidence, delicately dabbing the my soy sauced-cornered mouth with my napkin.

Bonus treat of melon bubble gum

Choice sushi does exist at a serene spot such as Yawa. It may not be the most visited raw joint in town, but its accidental exclusivity gives the place a more ethereal quality. Though the waitstaff lingers a little too closely to we patrons, the service is genuinely attentive. Smiles are infectious and the glass regularly gets replenished with water. The sushi chef spun my rolls in less than 5 minutes; of course, the scant number of customers helps quicken the turnaround. On top of my check sat a bonus mini box of melon bubble gum. Actually, this sweet treat is still resting inside my wallet, to be enjoyed during an emergency need of a sugar rush with minimum calories. I have to offset my intake somehow.



Sushi Yawa
25 W. 8th St.
New York, NY
Ph: 212-253-9888
Web site: www.sushiyawa.com