Mom Makes Thai Jewels: Her Kids Worship Accordingly

Last Saturday, my mom and I were chatting on the phone when her voice dropped conspiratorially.

“Sharon,” she said in a smug whisper. “I did it!”

“What did you do?” I said, a bit distracted.

“I made Thai Jewels from scratch!” she declared proudly.

I was suddenly all ears. “No!”

Recently, my mom and I visited Spice Market in the Meatpacking District. My impression was borderline unfavorable, but the saving grace was a side of decadent ginger fried rice, and one of the most mind-blowing desserts I had ever tasted: Thai Fruit Jewels, a fantastically bizarre combination of coconut milk over crushed ice and an assortment of canned and fresh fruit. The taste was refreshing, exotic, not overly sweet, and the silky, slightly chewy texture of the “jewels” made me feel just like a little kid.

I was flabbergasted. The dessert seemed pretty complex.

Turns out, the recipe exists in Jean-George Vongerichten’s cookbook “Asian Flavors of Jean-Georges.” I’m not too familiar with copyright laws when it comes to re-publishing recipes, but, if you are inclined to try the recipe, give it a Google and you’ll be in business. Most surprising was learning that most of the “jewels” are actually water chestnuts—they are manipulated over a series of time-consuming steps involving tapioca starch, which transforms the water chestnuts into soft, pliant, pink and green treasures. Other “jewels” include fresh papaya, coconut, pomegranates, canned jackfruit and toddy palm; my mom also added her own special contribution, pineapple and coconut gelatin.

This, by far, is my favorite dessert of the moment, and possibly of all time. It’s worth buying Jean-George’s cookbook, and even turning your kitchen into an all-out disaster area like my mom did, just to make her kiddies happy. Or, I suppose, you could just pay Spice Market a visit.

But back to my mom’s ambitions: they have no limits. Last Saturday, she packed up her treasures in ziplock bags and Tupperware, and transported the Thai Jewels along with some other experiments, to my brother Bill’s house, where he and I were bent over my busted harddrive. He was busily working; I was watching him and re-tying my shoelaces.

As we re-formatted, copied, and updated, my mom got to work re-heating her creations. Bill’s gal pal Lori poured Awamori into cups.

We picked up bottles of this alcohol in Okinawa, where our relatives are distributors. It’s made from Thai rice, and is distilled, as opposed to brewed. It uses a black koji mold, indigenous to Okinawa, in its fermentation process. It’s somewhat similar to sake, yet not nearly as smooth. It actually kind of burns when you drink it. Yum.

Here was my mom’s first course of the evening.

That, my friends, is only something I now refer to as the best soup I’ve ever tasted. And I’ve had some mean soups. I’ve had rice cake soup at San Soo Kap San in Queens that made me want to do a dance; I’ve had a trio of seasonal soups at the Culinary Institute of America; and I’ve had soba noodles made with tree ash. Those soups would all bow down before my mom’s creation.

The broth is a simple miso broth with dashi, low-sodium soy sauce and sugar. My mom added buckwheat noodles, some carrots, shiitake mushrooms, baby spinach leaves, scallions, a hard-boiled egg, some red pickled ginger, and that thing on the right? That took finesse. That’s rafute, or awamori pork belly, which is succulent, melt-in-your-mouth meat, which somewhat resembles spare-ribs in flavor. My mom said later that while she was braising the pork in awamori and ginger, her house smelled of freshly-baked bread of all things.

Next up, was stir-fried chicken with curry sauce and a side order of ginger rice. Behold the beauty:
Again, my mom was inspired by Spice Market and did a remarkable re-creation of the ginger rice, crisping up fresh ginger and garlic until it resembled crushed nuts, and then adding some leeks, topped with an egg, sunny side up.

One of the most enjoyable dining experiences ever. Thanks, Mom.

Special thanks to my Billy Bob for restoring my computer.

And to Lori, for her absolutely mouth-watering homemade pretzels (in both cinnamon/sugar and salt flavors!)

Update: I was just informed that Jean George's Thai Jewels dish was voted "Dessert of the Year" in 2005 by New York Magazine. So, if my word's not good enough for you, take Adam Platt's.

The Bar Room at The Modern: Small Bites

Man, New York City Restaurant Week is looking less and less economical.

Train fare to and from Grand Central Station (off-peak) from Harrison: $13.00
Subway fare to and from the MOMA (a short walk, but hey, it was cold): $4.00
Adult admission to the MOMA if you’re looking to kill about three hours before your reservation: $20.00 (Doesn’t that seem high for a museum?)
The Bar Room at the Modern’s Restaurant Week three-course prix fixe menu: $35.00
One regular coffee: $4.00
My portion of tax and tip: $12.00

Total: $88.00

Really, $88.00 isn’t entirely unpleasant when you consider my mom, uncle, and I were on a quest to experience modern art and Alsatian cuisine—what’s a few dollars when you’re making memories of a lifetime, we rationalized?

Our first mistake was allotting three hours to wander the MOMA. I had been to the MOMA many years back when CGI animation genius Pixar held its exhibit, and it was unquestionably one of the most impressive displays I'd ever witnessed. This time, however, my mom, uncle and I had to make do sitting in one of the media rooms, watching a wild boar plod through grass fields and chomp on an apple, while the camera slowly drifted into and out of the beast’s mouth. Monotone new age music hummed, and screens emitted hallucinogenic pink and red.

Two Jackson Pollocks, one wall of Campbell Soup cans, and one perfectly crumpled piece of paper later, we made our way to The Bar Room at The Modern, adjacent to the MOMA. The Bar Room is the casual, more affordable section of The Modern, while the sleek, pricier, and highly-esteemed Dining Room boasts serene views of the MOMA’s sculpture garden, and currently holds a Michelin Star.
Most restaurants that participate in Restaurant Week only offer two to three selections per course, so I was immediately impressed with the Bar Room’s extremely generous menu of 10 choices each for the first and second courses, and seven choices for dessert.

The flip-side to the multitude of offerings is that portions range from petite to minute. Last Restaurant Week, Otto and I visited the Bar Room, and while the meal as a whole was very good, what stood out most was the look of longing on Otto’s face when he had swallowed the fourth—and last—bite of his swordfish entrée. Certain dishes are laughably small.

This time around, I was taking precautions. I forewarned both my uncle and my mom of potentially small plates, and then asked our efficient and exceptionally likeable server Kelly to point out any dishes that were on the “minute” side. Kelly not only identified some of the smaller plates (the swordfish, the pork belly and the poussin), she helpfully pointed to the largest appetizer on the menu, the Tarte Flambee, an Alsation thin crust tart with crème fraiche, onion and applewood smoked bacon.

Sold.
My uncle, however, was taking extra precautions, and ordered the first of many Brooklyn Lagers to up the caloric count, along with the Grilled Squid with Aleppo flatbread, tomato confit and baked lemon-yukon coulis.
My mom decided on the Wild Mushroom Soup with toasted chorizo ravioli.
Appetizers were fair. My uncle seemed to like the flavor of the squid, (and the flavor of his second Lager), but thought it was on the rubbery side. My mom’s soup was a little watery, but thought the flavor was earthy and complex. My tarte, which looks humongous in the picture, was paper thin, so I had no trouble finishing it. The smokiness and creaminess were very nice here, but we all agreed it was a little salty. If you’ve ever purchased the frozen Tarte Alsace from Trader Joe’s, it’s surprisingly a solid runner-up to the Bar Room’s Tarte.

For entrees, my mom took my recommendation and ordered the Homemade Alsation Country Sausage with turnip choucroute and whole grain mustard sauce. I had sampled it last time, and vividly remembered the thin, crispy skin giving way to a burst of flavor. It was one of the best, most comforting, first bites in the history of dining. So it was with disappointment when I realized that this time, the sausage was a little less juicy, a little more salty, and therefore, a little less special.
My uncle and I both ordered the Pan Roasted Hangar Steak with artichokes, parmesan and extra virgin olive oil, which—while small—was a winner. Perfectly cooked steak, and a mild, pleasant artichoke sauce.
I don’t know at exactly what point during dessert that my mom and I realized that good intentions had landed my normally quiet and shy uncle with a bit of a buzz. Perhaps it was when he sampled a small piece of pistachio ice cream from my mom’s Pistachio Dark Chocolate Dome and amaretto gelee and declared it, “AWESOME!!!” but then took another bite and said worriedly, “Now I don’t taste anything. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”
In any case, the Pistachio Dark Chocolate Dome was easily the best dish of the night. It had a playfulness to it, closely resembling a Malomar cookie in shape, texture (a graham-crackerish bottom and pistachio crème brulee filling), and all-around delicousness. I liked the idea of updating a supermarket dessert, and putting a signature spin on it.

All in all, a fun night. No one left hungry, and prices were still reasonable, but we would've loved to see a bit more food on the plates.

The Bar Room at The Modern
9 W 53rd St
MOMA
New York, NY 10079
(212) 333-1220

JoJo: Where's Your Mojo?

Here follows my first official NYC Restaurant Week Report. Yes, my friends, I’m happy to announce that the tooth pain is subsiding and I was able to schlep down to Jean-George Vongerichten’s 1-star Michelin-rated JoJo Friday night after work.

Except this isn’t an official NYC Restaurant Week Report.

Why, you ask? Because my best bud Danielle and I are renegades. We took one look at the Restaurant Week menu, compared it to JoJo’s regular menu, did some calculatin’, and realized we could get exactly what we wanted for about $42 per person instead of the standard $35 fixed price.

We went off the grid, so to speak.

But before I get to what we ordered, I’ve got to address some issues we had with JoJo. Frankly, neither one of us was that impressed—with the food, the service, or the ambience. On the pro-side, the prices were extremely reasonable for a Manhattan restaurant. But at what point do relatively low prices signify that you should lower your expectations? I mean, this is Jean-George, and it’s got a Michelin Star. Craft lost its Michelin star (last year, I believe), and Craft could blow JoJo right out of the water with no butter or salt left in its kitchen, or forks and knives on its tables.

To start, when we arrived at the two-story townhouse, we were seated downstairs (before we left, we checked out the second floor and found it to be roomier and more aesthetically pleasing), close to the main entrance. It was a bit cramped (the guy behind me actually had to move because his legs were so long and people kept tripping over them), and it was dark. Not dark-romantic, but dark-I-just-ate-an-orange-rind-by-accident-ew-the bitterness-the-bitterness. Second, I found the service to be a little unattentive to the details that make a restaurant shine. The couple next to us had to point out a wobbly table, our servers were a tad sloppy when setting down our dishes, and I had to track down a waiter to bring sugar for my coffee.

But most importantly, I just found the food disappointing.

The night started promisingly enough. We received some French bread that was nice and crisp on the outside with a warm and soft interior, served with fresh, creamy butter. The butter was real good.

For appetizers, I ordered:

Sweet Potato Crème-Fraiche Ravioli
Parmesan sauce and basil: $12
This dish was fantastic, and if I had had this as an entrée, or perhaps just stopped here and called it a night, JoJo would’ve been alright. This dish had so many layers. Each second on the tongue brought out a different element. The ravioli was not too thick, and a perfect texture. The sweet potato was heavenly. The basil added just that extra freshness to keep the dish from feeling too heavy. There were also a few dashes of something spicy--a little milder than clove--that gave an unexpected kick at the end. Very well done.

Danielle ordered:

Butternut Squash Soup
Oyster mushrooms: $10
I know the picture is atrocious, but I can’t even tell you how hilarious it was when the bowl went down in front of Danielle. In it were minisicule pieces of something--we couldn't tell because the restaurant was so dark. For a moment, both Danielle and I forgot what she had ordered. “Hmmm,” she said, wondering if this was as good as it was gonna get. Then the server whipped out the soup pourer, and splashed butternut squash soup on top of what turned out to be her oyster mushrooms. “Ahhhh,” we said, remembering. Then we silently watched our server dribble soup all over the side of her bowl.

Danielle was happy with the soup, but I thought it was a little salty, and kind of one-note. Nothing special, and definitely no points for presentation.

Next up, came our entrees. I got:

Chicken (hehe – that’s all the menu said)
Roasted with ginger, green olives and coriander, chick pea fries: $19
This sounded interesting. And it was… in an all-over-the-place way. I received two plates, one small plate containing a little chick-pea log cabin that in no way made sense with my chicken dish. It was executed well, and probably would’ve been lovely with some tahini sauce on a hot day. But instead, it came with chicken. Three pieces of chicken drenched in a salty sauce with overly abundant ginger, some green olives (I liked those—not briny at all), and overpowering coriander/cilantro.

A hot mess, really.

Danielle got:

Salmon
Slowly baked, truffled mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts, truffle vinaigrette: $24
No complaints here. Jean-Georges knows how to bake a salmon. Yawn.

For dessert, there was:
Raspberry Crisp with raspberry creme: $10
and the equally bland
Pear Tart with pear sorbet and creme anglaise: $9
The sorbet in the pear tart was the one stand-out element, but the pastry itself almost tasted re-heated. As for the raspberry crisp, it was raspberry overload, and the almond wafers were completely lost in all the crème.

I’m not saying the food or experience at JoJo was bad. It was fine, just not in any way memorable. I’ve had better meals sans Michelin Star, sans ego, sans train fare and subway ride. But we liked the butter.

JoJo
160 E 64th St
New York, NY 10021
(212) 223-5656