Ramen x2 c/o Nom Nom Ramen

Over the last six months two new ramen joints have opened in Philly. I carefully followed the press on both, and long wanted to form my own opinion, but things always came up and the gratification of this desire was delayed. In April I was on my way to a Punch Brothers and Jesca Hoop show at the TLA when I suddenly found myself outside of Nom Nom Ramen. I had plenty of time before the show, so I went inside to finally see what all the hubbub was about. I ordered a small bowl of the Shio ramen:  tonkotsu broth seasoned with salt and white soy sauce along with pork belly, mushrooms, naruto, scallions and pickled ginger. I added an extra egg to the mix. I sat quietly at a booth and slurped my way through the bowl. Not quite as complex as the Ippudo broth of my first ramen experience, but definitely a dish with some depth of flavor in the broth. The noodles were pretty good too, not quite as 'springy' as I might have expected, but still with some bite and chew to them, not mushy or overly soft. The pork was properly tender and fatty. It was a good first experience and an excellent way to get myself ready for the concert - and later, the worst date of my life.This is not the venue for a real discussion of that date. But let me just say this: sometimes I feel like I'm a grumpy person, or someone without a lot of interesting things to say about myself...this date reminded me that I do have joy in my life, and that I do believe in basic etiquette. Moving on.

So, in the last three weeks or so I've started taking indoor rowing classes with AS. Our aim is to go three times a week. The first week I ended up going twice. The second week three times. This week, well, today will be my first of the week. So last Friday AS and I went to our scheduled rowing class and found ourselves with an instructor we hadn't had before. This man was the devil. Not really. But he was serious about sit ups, lunges, push ups and something called "Romanian Dead Lifts" or drop lifts, I'm not quite sure. At the end of the 45 minute class we were both in a daze of exertion and feeling pretty much every muscle in our bodies. The plan was to then meet up with Mr. Ass for ramen at Nom Nom, which is exactly how the plan went. This time I tried the Karai-styled ramen, which basically was the same broth only spicy. I liked the little extra kick of the 'nom nom sauce' but didn't find the broth/bowl all that spicy or different from the Shio version. I ended up adding a fair amount of sriracha to my bowl. I actually prefer things to be less spicy than I expect than more, as it's easier to make something hotter than it is to change something from too spicy to less so. If you know what I'm saying. The point is that while it wasn't to terribly spicy, I thought this was probably the better approach. I didn't quite slurp each and every last drop of soup up, but I think this was more a result of my recent exercise than a comment on the quality of the dish.

Mr Ass. ordered the pork buns and loved them. I took a bite and wasn't quite as into it.

This is a pretty no-frills establishment with a simple menu, fast service and minimal attention to decor. You order at the counter (cash only) and then they call your name when your bowl is prepared. A regular bowl with added egg and a soda runs you about $10. So it's definitely a bargain. I'll have to get to the other new place to better compare the two, but it gives me great comfort that Nom Nom is not so far from me...that if I get a hankering for some creamy, porky broth and above average noodles, there's a place to go without having to cross Broad Street.

Tapas c/o Jamonera

In April at some point, or even late March, I sent out an email to some of my Philly folks asking if anyone had interest in going to a Santigold show with me in early May. Tuffy Winky (formerly BC) responded with a resounding yes. I suggested that we have dinner before the show and in the end we decided on Jamonera, which was on the list. It will come to no one's surprise that I ended up in the neighborhood early. I chose to kill a few minutes looking in at the Open House Store, which is owned and operated by the same business partnership as Jamonera and Barbuzzo. Basically, the duo has a lockdown on most of the block of 13th Street between Chesnut and Sansom. The store was chock full of cute things you couldn't imagine ever ending up at Q Mart, but still struck me as just a lot of stuff (some of which I'm sure I'd covet far more if I owned a house with the room for such things). On the other hand, who pays $14 for a chicken stapler? Not me.

In any event, when I finished killing time I entered Jamonera through its imposing black door and found myself face to face with a guy standing in the entry way. We made eye contact, but I wasn't quite sure whether he was a patron waiting for someone, or a host. This would have been easier to determine if, you know, he had said something along the lines of "Welcome to Jamonera, how can I help you?" but he didn't do that, which then made me feel awkward about telling him I had a reservation. It was weird and not the most auspicious of beginnings, I must say. Once seated, I took a look at the cocktail list while I waited for Tuffy. I had read that their vermouth cocktails were a nice change of pace, so when the server came up and asked if I'd like anything to drink, I went with the "Blanco Especial,"  which was a Bodegas Montana-Perucchi Vermouth "served in a traditional vermuteria style" with chamomile, lemon verbena, ginger and mint. Definitely a change of pace from many a Philadelphia cocktail. Sweet, almost cloyingly so if not for the balance of the verbena and lemon. I didn't want another, but I'm glad I gave it a go. Once Tuffy Winky arrived she ordered the Bizet,  which sounded like it was going to be too sweet (vodka, passion fruit, clementine, fresh tyme), but was actually just right and refreshing.

Tuffy Winky's a good sport about my craziness when it comes to food, and gave me a lot of freedom when suggesting the meal that we would enjoy. I'm not sure if I ended up making the best decisions or not. The first two things that arrived were the shishito peppers with a little salt and perhaps another slight accompaniment. I liked the blistered skin and the taste of the peppers on their own, but Tuffy Winky preferred them with a dose of the restaurant's sherry vinegar hot sauce. The presentation was simple, but appealing.

At the same time we also had the papa frita: crispy skin potato, wood smoked garlic aioli and brava salt. They were good and crispy, and the potato chunks were nicely proportioned, but somehow I wasn't overawed. It was dish that, like the peppers, seemed to rely on its simplicity and the quality of its minimal ingredients. In this case there wasn't enough pizazz. I'm not sure what was missing. Not salt. Maybe a little more of the aioli? Or perhaps a little more garlic zest to the aioli?

I knew that Tuffy Winky isn't a fan of fish, but I still wanted to check out the "Wedding of Anchoas," one Cantabrian anchovy, one Boquerone with charred peppers, goat cheese and arbequina olive oil.This may actually have been my favorite dish of the night. Actually, it was. No 'may' about it.  The contrast between the straight up fishiness of anchovy compared to the slightly more mellow flavor of the boquerone was an interesting one, and the cheese and pepper foundation grounded the difference between them quite nicely. This was the best realized dish of the evening.

We also ordered the ham croquetas, which I'm not sure were the same as the online menu's description, which is: iberico ham croquetas with horseradish crema, pickled mustard seed and ham fat. Ours seemed to have a little piece of onion, some kind of pepper, and a waxy/honey quality to them. I've gotta say that while the first half of one's first bite was quite enjoyable (nice and hot, a little salty), the finish that these little guys left was not as enjoyable. There was a waxiness (from the honey?) that coated both of our mouths and the taste that went with that coating was not a pleasant one nor was it easy to part with...cleansing one's palate of a waxy compound is a challenge. If the wedding was a 'hit,' then these were a definite 'miss.'

You'll note that I chose to take photographs with a flash but with a funny shutter speed. I like the look of the photos, but they're definitely a little 'moody.' Next up was the Foie y Setas, seared foie gras with wild mushrooms, amontillado sherry, maple buttered toast and roasted chesnuts. This was Tuffy's first foie! I think she liked it, which was a relief. The size of the foie was fair, given the $12 price. The mushrooms and the sweeter maple notes were earthy and successful contributors to the overall presentation. This was a good dish, not astounding, but not disappointing either.

When I went to Barbuzzo with Mr. Ass a while back (a full year and a month back, actually) we ordered the meatballs. Here, too, meatballs (albondigas) were on the menu...but I can't find them on the online version, so I can't tell you exactly what they consisted of. That said, they were extremely reminiscent of the Barbuzzo balls: very tasty but not as complex as you might expect.  During our meal we also enjoyed glasses of red wine...but I'm not sure the online list mirrors the choices we made.

So my overall feeling about this visit was so-so. While the host's opening left me feeling strange, our actual server's attitude and demeanor were great. She answered questions, suggested wines and was generally on top of her game without attitude or pretense. Food came out at a nice pace, though there was abit of a lull at one point that had me a little worried. When I go to any restaurant - high or low end - I go because I've heard good things about the establishment and want to enjoy those good things. Jamonera received a lot of great press during its opening months, and I very much enjoyed my Barbuzzo experience, so I did expect Jamonera to live up to that combined amount of hype. Unfortunately, it didn't. I guess I really am looking for those dishes that make your eyes bulge a little from the sheer surprise and enjoyment of whatever it is that is dancing across your taste buds. My eyes did not bulge. My buds did find some joy, but for the overall price tag (about $55 for each of us before tax/tip) I would have expected  more stand-outs. The ratio isn't right; for every dud/dish that needs just a little more fine tuning, you should have at least three dishes that are going to make your patrons swoon. I felt this was reversed. For every swoon-worthy dish, there were three that just barely missed the mark. Of course, if I were a professional reviewer with a better budget, I'd go back three or four times before writing it off, but as it stands, I'm not a reviewer. I can only tell you that at the end of the meal, Tuffy Winky and I both felt like we had a nice experience with good enough food, but we weren't really thinking about coming back or recommending it to others.

Pho c/o Pho Ha

This past weekend I thought it was about time to return to Pho Ha for a round of pho with LW. She agreed, and so on Sunday we made our way to South Philly. This was made a little more complicated than it usually would be because of the Broad Street Run. LW and I live west of Broad, but the restaurant is just east of it, which meant that we would need to cross Broad at some point. Of course, this was made more tricky because of the race. With just a little planning I avoided the issue by taking 76 until we had crossed over Broad. LW exclaimed when she saw all the runners making their way towards the stadiums.

The last few times I've had pho I've been a little disappointed by just how cooked my steak is by the time it arrives at the table. To remedy this disappointment I asked for my steak to be brought on the side. This worked out quite well.

The broth was still super hot and the steak cooked properly, but had just a little more liveliness as a result of not being quite so steeped in broth before arriving in my mouth.

Mmmm. So good. So, so, so good.

I also ordered the grilled pork rolls because the pork within them is ridiculously flavorful. I basically just picked the meat out of the rolls.

At the end of the meal I still had a nice mix of brisket, steak and broth and asked our server if I could get a to-go container. He then took the bowl away to do it himself, a moment or two later he came back and said that my leftovers were only filling up about half of the container...would I like to top it off with more broth? The answer to that was, of course, a resounding YES PLEASE. What magic. What magic lovely magic times. That leftover broth/meat became a dinner and a lunch for me this past week.

While we managed to avoid any consternation as a result of Broad Street Run traffic on the way to our meal, we weren't quite as successful on the way back. I had assumed that just doing the same thing in reverse would be a fine plan, but hadn't considered that by the time our meal was over that most folks were done running and were all getting into cars and attempting to leave the area. This led to LW and I getting stuck in traffic for a good 45 minutes. I think we managed to stay in relatively good spirits.

Walk in the Woods and Stream

After breakfast we did a little bit of a woods walkabout.

I will always be a sucker for walking in water.

I had a few random flower seeds and thought that it might be fun to randomly put them in the ground. I don't imagine they will actually come to anything, but the hope is there.

Frolisome.

This is pretty much all I want from life. Warm weather. Beautiful scenery. Friends. Maybe that's not true. Actually, I know it's not true. There are a few other things I'd want from life.

Looking down at small fishies.

Boots!

Fatty enjoyed demonstrating his upper body strength.

I'm glad he didn't hurt himself, but it would have made a good story if he had gotten a little wet.

As it teetered into afternoon times, the warmth increased. We found ourselves lying on the driveway soaking up the sun and heat that the asphalt was sucking up.

Then we played bocci ball and then L. and T. went on their way. It was sad. I very much wished that I could stop time and just have that sort of warm day for all eternity.

Brie, Spinach, Smoked Salmon and Asparagus Frittata

On our last country morning I wanted to fix another egg-centric breakfast dish for us. At first I thought it'd be fun to make a giant omelet. But then I thought it'd be more fun to make more of a frittata. So I scrambled up about half a dozen eggs and a liberal splash of half and half, oiled the skillet with a bit of vegetable oil and then salted and peppered the skillet, poured in the eggs, added asparagus, smoked salmon, spinach, and brie cheese into the mix, cooked on low for a bit, and then finished the whole thing off in the oven.

I'd never really done this before, and I have to say I was quite pleased with the results. Looked great, tasted delicious. I had missed one egg yolk in the initial scrambling and decided to see what would happen if I left it as-is. Not sure if you can really make it out, but it's in the wedge below, and it was a good experiment. The yolk was firm, but still had a little ooze to it. Something I think I may do in a more purposeful fashion in future times.

It was a pretty and warm day, so we ate outside. In the final photography I think you can see the yolk a little more clearly.

Dinner c/o Cascade Lodge

I debated whether to suggest going out or staying in to L. and Fat T. for our Saturday evening meal. Nothing wrong with home cooking, nothing at all. But, I think it's pretty clear that I do love me my dining out experiences. So it shouldn't come as much of surprise that I chose to suggest going out, and going out to Cascade Lodge. I had gone there once before with M., A. and A. and had thought that it was enough of an experience to intrigue and satisfy L. and Fat T. That and I just wanted to go.

So Cascade Lodge has been around for quite some time. According to its own creation myth, it came into being around 1940 and was quite the destination in the 50s and 60s. I think the overall menu and approach to the dining experience hasn't really been updated much since then.  I also think that the lodge has seen more popular days. I'm sure they do pretty well when booking weddings or doing catering gigs, but the building is set up for such a bigger, bustling scene than we found upon our arrival. When you walk in there's an entire downstairs bar area that is closed and has that abandoned feeling that rooms in large houses get when no one ever spends any time in them. The decor is also pretty dated, and I guess that's part of the charm. There is no host/hostess/maitre D. In fact, the entirety of the service staff were two older women who I thought could be sisters, and on occasion, the chef himself. Though I had made a reservation, we were seated not by the windows with a nice country view of a pond, horses and hills but instead right by the kitchen entrance, with a view of a table of senior citizens and a fireplace not currently lit.  This was, as you might have inferred, rather disappointing to me. Once we were seated one of the women asked us what we might like to drink, I said an Old Fashioned, L. asked for a glass of red wine, and T. asked for a beer. Time passed. We hadn't been given menus. So we were waiting both for our drinks and the ability to consider what we wanted to eat. Eventually the woman came back with a tray that seemed to have our three drinks on it, but she then stood by our table, scanning the rest of the restaurant (her back to us) as if she was trying to remember where they were supposed to be delivered. This was kind of funny, but a little worrisome given the fact that the place didn't seem entirely teeming with people. Maybe 10 tables total? In any event, the old fashioned was ok, but not all that special. I don't think they really have a bartender. It also appeared that we had been forgotten as far as bread was concerned, I only know this because the chef rushed out with a basket of quite hot and fresh bread and made a comment about how we should have had it sooner. Throughout the evening the chef would pop up and run around, helping the ladies keep up with the table-side aspect of their menu.

I suggested that we split the Caesar Salad made at the table. Here is the chef doing just that. He had a pretty good banter to him, as harried as he seemed. He mentioned that a former Philly (now I can't remember his name...maybe the really old pitcher guy?) was going to be in the area in the next few weeks and that the Lodge was going to host an event for the player's charity. This made me feel like the place still has a little juice, even if the overall clientele of the joint is decidedly of the 65+ variety..

I accidentally uploaded the wrong photograph. So I'll add an actual photograph of the salad later. It was good, the salad. Crispy lettuce. Nice anchovy bite. Simple, but satisfying.

When it came down to picking a meal, I was torn between the Trout Mediterranean with capers and finished off with a little white wine or the Veal Chop special. I definitely hemmed and hawed. At first I said the trout, but then after L. and T. ordered I reversed that decision and asked for the veal instead. We all laughed about my indecision. The lady said that it was my meal and I should have what I wanted. I wanted veal. A while later, the other lady comes out with the table side cooking tray and asks which one of us ordered the trout. We all looked at one another, confused. I explained that while I at first had been leaning in that direction, I had ultimately chosen to go with the veal but that if it was really an issue I guess I could have the trout. She looked perplexed at this, went back to the kitchen and then returned, again with the cart, and informed me that yes, I'd be having the trout because the veal would take too long to cook and that would ruin my companions' meals. Fair enough. The other lady came around and apologized for the mix up. And it wasn't such a terrible thing that it was worth being snarky or making a scene about, but I really was sad about it.

The pro to this disappointment (because it really was disappointing and surprising given the back and forth and laughter we had shared with the first lady) was that at least we got to see some big flames. That's my trout being cooked.

L. ordered the lamb, which she declared good if overcooked.

Fat T. went with the salmon, which I had a bite of and found entirely serviceable but not overly magical.

Each of our meals were accompanied by ginger men, mashed potatoes, one piece of baby corn, one piece of asparagus and one carrot.

This was a series of photographs of us going to bite the heads off of the men.

This is my trout, which was good, but not transcendent. The flesh was meaty and tender, but even with capers the sauce lacked any real pizazz. Even with added salt, there was something strangely non-descript about it.

Due to the mix up of the main course, we were rewarded with a complimentary piece of torte, which was fine.

I really want to be able to totally sing the praises of this establishment, because its overall atmosphere is very much something I can get behind. That said, the execution of its concept, at least on this particular night, could do with some fine tuning. It seems like they're trying to survive on a shoe-string staff, and in these times, I get that. But I do wonder how much longer the place could survive as it is. Maybe enough customers are regulars who know the servers over years and years, so the mistakes that I couldn't help but notice don't matter at all. There's a risk in that too, as it seems like the majority of the Cascade Lodge's clientele is inching ever higher into their twilight years. Who will replace them when they're gone?

Times at Q Mart

After the alpaca portion of our early afternoon, we piled into the car (well, really we just got into the car in an orderly fashion) and made our way to the Quakertown Farmer's and Flea Market, also known as Q Mart.This was my second visit to Q Mart, the first being only mentioned but not documented due to the overall weirdness of the whole place. During my first visit I only explored the cavernous and slightly terrifying warren of an indoor market, which features all sorts of things, a few of which we'll get to in just a moment. This time, however, we went to the back parking lot in order to peruse the outdoor flea market and satiate Fat T.'s desire for country yard sales. There we saw all sorts of things and people. While I like one good and big junk store full of the detritus of our consumer society, this warehouse clearance effect really gets me down. It was sprawling, the tables went on and on, the quality of their goods and the happiness of the vendors' faces decreasing the farther and farther you got from  yet another building, which seemed to act as a hub for the flea market. I'm a privileged person compared to many of the shoppers and vendors who were doing their thing that day. While I was looking for the pleasure of perhaps an unexpected treasure, I have a feeling that some of these folks weren't as whimsical. And that goes for the vendors as well as the patrons. I'm sure that some were doing it for fun, but others - the old hunched over woman at one of the farthest possible tables selling used, not even in the box any more, Barbies; the man with what amounted to a pile of canned vegetables with labels that would suggest that ingesting the contents of said cans would certainly lead to botulism - seem to be doing this to supplement what would appear to be already meager incomes. Maybe I looked at it the wrong way. Maybe I'm out of touch. For some families this was clearly a fun (and free at least as far as admission) day out: they happily perused the aisles and aisles and aisles of rayon summer dresses that would fall apart after two wearings,1000-piece puzzles, c-clamps,  trombones, old Sega Genesis systems, long-dead people's vacation photos from the 1930s. While there were certainly babies crying, for the most part kids seemed excited, their parents not too overwhelmed. And once they'd exhausted the tables, they could go inside and eat an empanada or pierogie or any of the many other edible treats to be found in the 'market' building. I guess what I'm saying is, this is an interesting place where all sorts of things and people wash up. But for some it seems like the end of the line and that can be depressing. I won't say that I didn't have a little fun. I wasn't totally doom and gloom at the time, it was just bubbling a little. While we were still outside, we came across this box...the inside of which was just awesome.

The thing is, I can barely keep my life together as it is. There are moments when I feel like I'm slowly inching my way towards hoarder-ism. I have articles of clothing I haven't worn in ten years. I have a suitcase full of things my father brought up last summer, which sits in my room unopened. I don't need any more stuff for stuff's sake. So going to such a mecca of stuff is difficult. Because some of it? Some of it seems like such a good idea. I saw a framed print of Chesapeake Bay crabs that was actually pretty neat. And I'm a sucker for old photographs with brief descriptions written out in hand on the back. I can say with happiness that I went through this entire part of the day without purchasing a thing.

At one stand we saw a framed illustration. At first it seemed pastoral; an old school well with its bucket up drawn in pencil. But with just a little more attention it became clear that the bucket was not any such thing. Instead the image was of a well, with a man hanging from a rope where the bucket should have been. It was bleak and I wanted to buy it, but I didn't. And then there was this Drag Queen doll.

Eventually we got to the more food-oriented building. Though it's not limited only to food. There are also alligators named Wally who do not like flash photography, shops selling those giant swords and knives that seem to appeal to a certain kind of Larper/pony tailed guy who I thought ceased existing in 1993, produce markets (but I don't really trust the provenance of their goods), butcher's counters, sit-down and stand-up food stalls, and more and more. I'd say that the length of the building is at least half a mile. Maybe not? Maybe more? Maybe less? I don't know. It's really, really big. You feel like it never ends.

Also, a tortoise.

I guess that's all I have to say about Q Mart at the moment.

Alpacas, We Salute You

After breakfast we took a little walk in order to see a few alpacas and sheep. I don't really know much about alpacas, though I sure have been seeing a lot of them in the last few months (well, two different alpaca sightings in two months). I know that they can be guard animals for sheep. Or I think I know that. I certainly told L. and Fat T. that they were with conviction in my voice. But I don't really know what they're like. Are they like llamas, liable to spit in your face and attack you? Or are they like sheep, dumb as bricks and with very little interest in being patted? Our time with this flock barely solved any of these great mysteries (which I could easily solve by googling, but sometimes it's just as much fun not knowing). What I can surmise is that alpacas are smarter than sheep and super attentive to their surroundings, but they're not averse to eating feed directly out of your palms. That said, they're not really into cuddling...and I could never quite tell if they were at ease with our presence in their pens, or waiting for the right moment to strike us in our faces with their hooves.

That white one is super crazy eyed. Maybe blind? Dumb? Not sure.

This post could also be called 'me with alpacas trying to hide my fat face.'

This one's name was Dusty Springfield.

I imagine that that pile of gravel didn't end up there by accident. In fact I think it's there to give alpacas a higher ground position in order to better observe their surroundings and look out for predators, trouble, or silly humans who really, really want to eat them feed out of their hands. Yup. Who doesn't love a good gravel bath? Me, I swear by them. They give me a really nice bloom to my skin. Lies.

This could be entitled, 'well, I still have one good angle.'

This alpaca came and got grub from our hands and then went behind us towards the barn and popped a squat. I wasn't sure if this was a defensive or offensive move, or if it just likes the shade or expected more food. I inched closer and closer to it for a photograph but was afraid that it was going to lose its mind and attack me. It didn't. But then, I didn't end up getting any closer than three feet. Maybe five.

This tree confounded me. It looked like a red bud, but that had these other leaves that I didn't think were red bud-like at all. But my tree knowledge is severely lacking. Compared to others' so is my bird knowledge, but I did correct T. when he pointed at a turkey vulture and declared it a hawk. I don't think he quite believed me, which I was terribly offended by...I mean, if T. told me that to build a set of cabinets into a wall you must first coat the wall in jello, I would believe him because he is a master builder of things. Ok, the problem with that comparison is that I am not a master bird watcher. Whatever, they were turkey vultures. and I have no idea what the tree was.

What do you think about the options to make the photographs bigger? Should I be uniform? I love the bigger photos, especially when they're actually good pictures. But the less stellar images, I wonder if it's doing more damage than good to be so big?