Possibly the easiest thing to make for dinner

Like many people, I suffer the regular ebb and flow of creativity and productivity in life, and in particular when figuring out what to make for dinner.  Sometimes ideas possess me, and other times I'm desperate to just make something, anything that we can all eat and enjoy.  We all have our staple, go-to dishes to fall back on, but the struggle is to avoid falling back on them too often.

Enter the world of bibimbap.  Essentially it's mixed vegetables on rice, but you can "dress it up or down" as your time/energy/creativity fit.  Apparently (although I speak no Korean) "bibim" means mix and "bap" is for rice.  More specifically, the vegetables are in the form of namool, which are different salad-ish dishes.  For example, common namool could include soy bean sprouts blanched and seasoned with sesame oil, braised fiddleheads (bracken fern), pickled daikon radish, or shredded wakame (young kelp) seaweed.  At it's most basic, bibimbap is assembled by topping a bowl of hot rice with various namool and a bit of kochu jang (Korean hot pepper paste) and then mixed all together.

Admittedly, preparing a five or six different vegetable dishes for the purpose of mixing them together is not necessarily a quick and easy task, so why is this supposed to be an easy dinner solution?  Because of Kim's Mart (519 E Broadway) that's why.  For $5.99 the good folks at this Korean grocery store will make six different namool and package them with a small cup of kochu jang, requiring you to merely press "start" on the rice cooker at home.  (I meant to have a picture here for you but I forgot to take it.  I'll try to add it in again the next time we eat bibimbap.)  The package contains enough namool to feed about four people, maybe more especially if you dress it up a bit.  Which leads me to...

Upgrades!  Now you can add-on to this meal of convenience as your time and energy allow.  I will commonly add egg, either a fried egg (sunny, hold the wiggle) on each bowl, or cooked in omelet sheets and sliced into thin shreds.  Also, if i can work it out, some meat (usually beef, but chicken and pork work well too) sautéed with some sweetened soy sauce (like soy sauce with some green onion, ginger, grated apple, garlic, sesame oil and sugar) but it's really not necessary and we would only use a tiny bit anyways.  I like to add some nori cut into thin strips (like about 3mm x 25mm) but I don't always have the patience to cut it up.

So really, what could be easier than washing some rice in the morning, setting the timer on your rice cooker, and stopping by the grocery store on your way home?  This post was composed to convince Tina to try it.

Side Note: My first taste of bibimbap was enjoyed in Japan in 2000, thanks to Mark who took us to a Korean restaurant.  They specialized in a variant called dolsot bibimbap which is served in a stone bowl which has been heated up to the point where it essentially fries the rice for you after it has been served to you.  It comes topped with a raw egg, which also cooks from the heat of the bowl once you mix it up.  My favourite part was the little browned bits of chili-coated rice that stuck to the stone, like what the French would call fond (pan scapings) but what Mark taught us is called koge in Japanese.  Why isn't there a word for this in English?  We ate dolsot bibimbap a few more times during that visit to Japan including once at a mall food court, and I kept thinking "They would never serve this in a Canadian mall, imagine carrying a red-hot stone bowl to your table on a flimsy plastic tray. A safety hazard for sure!" Yet upon our return I was pleasantly surprised to see a Korean food stall at the Yaohan food court in Richmond serving it.  The first time I ordered it there, the proprietor (upon sizing me up as a non-Korean) made sure to remind me to bring the bowl back to them after eating.

Banh Mi and being a "regular"

Seeing as how my mandate here is food and music, I should clarify that this post is not about "being regular" which has a distinctly different connotation than "being a regular."

On to business. Marie is convinced that it is because of my shaved head (and possibly implicitly, my big ears) that I am easily recognized and remembered. I raise this point because this post is actually about my absolute favourite place in Vancouver to get banh mi (Vietnamese subs.) Coincidentally it is also (I just remembered) the very first place I ever ate one (many thanks to Steve Balogh, who lived around the corner at the time). Truong Giang Vietnamese Sandwich is right on East Hastings near Dunlevy, and although I've never seen more than two customers in there at a time, they still manage to make fresh and tasty banh mi every time i'm there.

I remember the first few times eating there getting the same once-over stare from the owner/proprietors (I'm dead sure it's a literal mom and pop operation, it's always the same couple manning the place) but over time they have come to recognize me, to the point now where I get warm smiles and hellos, even immediately after another customer gets the old once-over in front of me. They know how I like to order: no onions, extra spicy (sliced chilli peppers). They were super excited to meet my daughter the other day, as they have a daughter of their own, who is now old enough to work at the till in the restaurant. (aside: This girl can't be more than 12 years old, and she is the epitome of good restaurant service: friendly, efficient and confident. I hope I can be a good enough parent to raise a child as together as she.)

Here's the thing: I maybe visit that place a few times a year, tops. Maybe I went slightly more often ten years ago, but since then, I think it would not be far off to say that a year could pass without me eating there. I've never introduced myself, or even small-talked with them while visiting. (Although there was one occasion where I ran into the husband/father at the vet.) Yet they still recognize me whenever I go. I'd like to say that these are people-persons, and that's why they take the time to remember customers who return, even only sporadically. But, it could be because of my haircut...

Here's the special sub, I think it's $3.50

You don't need me to tell you why Vietnamese subs are a contender for the perfect food, but I might remind you anyway.  In spite of it's history of brutality and ignorance of human rights, colonialism has produced some incredible cultural mixings and developments (Hello, jazz music!).   Here the French occupation has left Vietnam with the best bread and coffee in Asia.  Somehow banh mi manage to have a bun that is crispy, light and hearty at the same time.  Couple that with pickled veggies, some cold cuts or shredded meat, and some cilantro garnish, and bob's your uncle.  Although I'm not much of a coffee drinker (I enjoy the taste, but never understood the habit of drinking coffee every day) I will not turn down an opportunity (although they are rare) to savour two kinds of coffee: Turkish coffee (in a tiny demitasse glass with the superfine grounds mixed in at the bottom) and Vietnamese "French" ice coffee (dripped over sweetened condensed milk then poured into a glass filled with ice.)

Almost every time I eat there (or take out) I try to imagine if there were any occasion/event I could use as an excuse to get Truong Giang to cater.  Partly because I'd love for them to have the business (although they've been there for this long, they must be doing okay) and partly because how cool would it be to attack a stack of 50 banh mi.

The yardstick to measure by: Ippudo NY

What got me on this New York ramen obsession in the first place was the opening of the North America's first Ippudo Ramen in NYC, just before I visited the city with the whole family. Conveniently located in the Lower East Side, close to but not on St. Mark's where the centre of Japanese cuisine and culture resides in NYC, Ippudo was the closest thing to a real Japanese ramen-ya experience I've had on this side of the world. However it's not a typical ramen-ya in that it feels more like a modern hip bistro (with fancy nouveau appys and cocktails) than a cramped fast food joint (where you shut up, eat your noodles and get out). We liked Ippudo so much we ate there twice during that visit.

So it was fitting that the final bowl of ramen during this trip would be there, a full circle of NY ramen as it were. Sharon and I met in front of the restaurant right when they opened for dinner at 5pm (and there were already people lining up to get in, I've passed by the place at various times and never seen the place less than full) and were seated right away at a large communal table.

Since it was my last New York meal for a while, we splurged for a nice shochu cocktail (complete with half a fresh grapefruit and a juicer to do the work yourself) and some appy's, the avocado tofu tartare (basically avocado topped hiya-yakko-dofu) and yamaimo isobe (mountain yam, very crispy and fresh, topped with masago). They were tasty, but IMHO overpriced.

Shochu with freshly squeezed grapefruit

Yamaimo Isobe

Then the main event; Sharon and I both ordered the Akamaru Modern, which is tonkotso broth with a little ball of red miso on top, to mix in yourself. Although the standard toppings were a little skimpy (I think they are assuming you will order your own add-ons, although I prefer the aesthetic where the chef serves the bowl complete, as he/she wants you to enjoy it) they were well presented and tasty. I should remember to ask for a side order of the kakuni (pork belly) as there just wasn't enough in bowl to start.

Ippudo's Akamaru Modern

Speaking of not enough in the bowl, again I needed to order kaedama to fill me up. It's actually kind of fun to eat your noodles, and pace your soup to gauge whether or not you will be hungry enough to order another serving of noodles to add to it. The surprise was that Sharon also opted for kaedama, although she was regretting it by the end of the meal. ("Eyes are bigger than your stomach" was a phrase that I absolutely did not understand throughout my childhood, although I heard my parents say it enough times) The unanimous kaedama orders were not a complaint, they were in fact a compliment to the excellent noodles, made in the basement! Hakata-style, they were the thin straight kind, but just the perfect amount of toothiness to them, without any doughy or floury taste.

All told the bill for the two us came to nearly $80, which was a huge shock. I guess the add-ons like drinks and appy's really add up quick, but it was a real contrast to the other ramen-ya from this week. Definitely a tasty meal, but it reinforces the idea that ramen pricing in this city seems pretty arbitrary; there is no guarantee that a $14 bowl will taste any better than a $9 one. But I guess wine is the same isn't it? It's all about packaging and marketing, and Ippudo certainly has those things on it's side. The restaurant itself is by far the most elaborately (and beautifully) designed and decorated, and the hype machine seems to support that it's the "hot" place to eat ramen.