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Recipe inspiration, tips, and kitchen hacks from the Chowhound editors.

Z, The Sushi Gen of San Gabriel Valley

Z Sushi in Alhambra is the only place worth recommending in the area for people who are serious about sushi, says tsb, who lists a few reasons this place stands out.

Toshi prepares the anago himself, and somehow makes it almost fluffy in texture. A lot of places serve the commercially processed stuff; by making it himself, he can use the bones to make tsume—the sweet sauce for the eel.

He also prepares his own kohada, which has a smoky tinge that distinguishes it from other places.

Seared salmon with yuzu gosho and tai with yuzu and sea salt aren’t as unusual, but they’re definitely highlights of the repertoire.

He also does a credible version of Osaka-style battera—minus the wooden box—on request.

As for omakase, microtim says, “He started with a big tease followed with a plate of standard sushi. Then each sushi after that increased in quality by one notch until we climaxed at the toro. Then we reminisced on the experience in the warmth of a soup and the finishing touch of dessert. Yes, it was very much like sex.”

Z Sushi [San Gabriel Valley]
1132 N. Garfield Ave., Alhambra

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Omakase at Z-Sushi

A Bunch of Brunch at Harlem’s Pier 2110

Some of the better deals at the otherwise pricey Pier 2110 are at Sunday brunch. Choices top out in the low $20s, but they include a ton of food: Mimosa or Bloody Mary, soup or salad, home fries, toast, and substantial main courses—seared tilapia, New York strip steak, fried chicken and waffles, and a number of egg dishes. All quite good, says mcchowhound, “not Michelin good, but far better than most meals described as ‘brunch.’” The chicken is a standout, flavorful and lightly fried. The fish is fresh and tender.

Weekday lunch is decent, if overpriced, reports Steve R. Seafood bisque is rich with shrimp and lump crab or lobster meat, very tasty and not overly thickened. The pastrami on rye is nice lean meat, warmed up and served on good bread.

Beyond the chow, service is attentive and earnest, the room is huge and decked out in nautical trim, and the mood is upscale in a “we’re trying to be proper” way that hounds will either love or hate, Steve suggests.

Pier 2110 [Harlem]
2110 Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Blvd. (7th Ave.), between 125th and 126th Sts., Manhattan

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Pier 2110

Inviting New Bistro in Williamsburg

Williamsburg hounds are taking to the solid bistro fare and welcoming vibe at Juliette. Smart orders lean toward the classic—onion soup, mussels, steak au poivre, pate (served with delicious apple chutney)—but less conventional offerings like spicy chicken and paella (an occasional special) are worth a try, too. Also noteworthy: vegetable-goat cheese salad, standout fries and, for brunch, perfectly done French toast, served with roasted potatoes and lardons.

Service is attentive and attitude free—”definitely un-Williamsburg,” observes deancicle—and the soundtrack of Piaf, Jacques Brel et cie sets a suitably Gallic mood.

Juliette [Williamsburg]
135 N. 5th St., near Bedford Ave., Brooklyn

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New french Bistro in Williamsburg, Juliette

Get in the Cauldron

It’s the place whose logo is a happy little lamb wearing a bow tie. He looks happy, doesn’t he? He might not be so happy when he gets sliced paper thin and served alongside a cauldron of bubbling, cumin-scented broth. He may not be happy, but you will be.

There’s not just little lambs, but also fish balls, tofu, mushrooms, winter melon, hand-pulled noodles, and a ton of other uncooked items that show up ready for you to cook in that vat of spiced broth. All items are fresh and delicious, says Martin Strell, and the broth itself is a work of art. Actually, there are multiple broths to try, and you can get your hot pot half-and-half, one side full of spicy Sichuan broth, the other full of a milder broth of cumin, garlic, clove, and other spice treasures. Turns out you may not have to go to China for superior hot pot.

Little Lamb Mongolian Hot Pot [East Bay]
34396 Alvarado Niles Rd., at Decoto, Union City

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Little Lamb Mongolian Hot Pot in Union City

Portobello Mushroom Fritti

Dunkin Donut likes the Lafayette branch of Pizza Antica, both for the goat cheese pizza with a cracker-thin crust, and for the portobello mushroom fritti–like french fries, but made with beautiful strips of portobello mushrooms, served with a great dipping sauce.

The place is packed, so call ahead and put yourself on the wait list.

Pizza Antica [East Bay]

3600 Mount Diablo Blvd., Lafayette



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Pizza Antica

Citizen Cane

As with Cabbage Patch Dolls and Tickle Me Elmo, the unexpected popularity of these seasonal cookies has already caused a shortage.

I learned of Joe-Joe’s in this Chowhound thread. But when I tried to buy a pack at my local Trader Joe’s, I found out a woman had just come in and bought $700 worth, their whole stock.

Are they delicious? Yes. But don’t take my word for it; check out the big big love.

The truly desperate for a Joe-Joe fix can always go to the gray market.

The Tip of the Iceberg

Scallions may be off the hook: It’s looking (registration required) more and more like lettuce is the culprit in the Taco Bell E. coli outbreak. The fast-food chain’s iceberg shreds hail from (where else?) California—specifically Irwindale-based Ready Pac Produce, although Taco Bell canceled its contract with the company last week and hired Taylor Farms of Salinas instead.

The whole story reinforces the growing awareness that something ain’t right with our food-safety regulations. Fast Food Nation author Eric Schlosser helps explain why in a recent opinion piece (registration required). Hint: it has something to do with fast-food and meatpacking lobbyists, political donations, and Republican elected officials.

But this latest development also raises another, admittedly far more frivolous question: Why use lettuce in Mexican (or even “Mexican”) food in the first place? As plenty of true burritophiles and burrito eaters will tell you, lettuce has no place in a burrito. Ditto for a taco, where in my humble opinion (and in others’ as well), the only garnishes, if any, should be salsa, onion, and cilantro. Shredded lettuce has virtually no taste, and it doesn’t add crunch, no matter what anyone tells you—it gets watery and dilutes flavor, a far cry from the crisp, lovely lettuce cups common in Korean fare. The so-called vegetable doesn’t add any health benefits, either: Iceberg lettuce is a nutritional black hole, and even the other varieties (romaine and Bibb, for example) don’t bring a whole lot more to the table.

If there are any lettuce-in-burrito lovers out there, come forth and defend yourselves!

Space Grain

Space Grain

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Time Machine Steakhouse and Killer Szechuan

Framingham, Massachusetts

While I’ve always viewed Framingham as a Brazilian wonderland, I’ve also been aware of other nationalities. Obviously there’s wonderful Dakshin, and there also used to be a very good south Indian place right in the Framingham train station. But other ethnicities have caught my peripheral vision on previous visits, so while continuing to try to hit every Brazilian café in town (I’ve already strafed a bunch but haven’t yet found greatness worth reporting), I’ve decided to challenge myself to find treasure that’s neither Brazilian nor Indian.

Shortly after making that resolution, I blundered into venerable Ken’s Steak House (95 Worcester Road, Framingham, Massachusetts; 508-875-4455). What’s more evocative than a real old-fashioned steakhouse? Not the contemporary ilk, with self-conscious Rat Pack vibe and fancy meat-aging techniques. I mean the steakhouses you’d find in the 1960s and 1970s, with well-rounded menus and merely high, not extravagant, prices. The sort of place one took one’s wife with her beehive hairdo for an anniversary dinner, back in the days when dining out was a special occasion.

You still find such places in burgs like Framingham. Ken’s Steakhouse was clearly a big name in town once, but is reduced to huddling alongside overgrown Route 9, the sort of sprawly road that sucks the dignity from every venue along its glaring length.

Inside there’s still lots of dignity left. Dark wood, padded bar, stained glass, couples dancing, wise-cracking career waiters and bartenders, dark wood—it’s like attending a dining museum. The passage of time has revealed this, the most mainstream type of American eatery, to be as stylized and transportive as any Polynesian tiki restaurant or Sicilian red-sauce palace. I gleefully hoped to immerse in a patently ethnic dining experience, and was not disappointed.

Hear a podcast recorded in the lounge as I awaited my scallops wrapped in bacon, sipped my Shiraz, and contemplated the contrariness of choosing such a bland place in a town rife with jazzy wonderment (which itself is little known to most outsiders): MP3.

Hear a post-meal rundown (synopsis: everything was right on the money, and you can’t find this sort of cuisine so easily anymore), as I head to a full dinner (I’d just had a few bites at Ken’s) in a Szechuan restaurant I’d spotted up the block: MP3.

+ + +

Sichuan Gourmet (271 Worcester Road, Framingham, Massachusetts; 508-626-0248) looked good, but I didn’t realize how good. This crummy photo was the best shot I could get of the place, from across the street (where I was ordering in yet another restaurant, but we’ll get to that in a minute):

All alone, and raving into a voice recorder, I faced down three plates:

Beef tendon with spicy wonder sauce.

Dan dan noodles.

Cumin lamb (a seasonal special).

The food was phenomenal. The beef tendon was floatingly light (and subtly, soulfully spiced); the lamb was oh-so-tender and dosed with tons of fragrant cumin; dan dan noodles tasted hand-pulled, were properly oily and hysterical with chili, and hit notes I’d never before experienced with dan dan noodles. And I’ve had lots of really great dan dan noodles.

Listen to my screaming, gasping podcasts:
MP3 and MP3.

I need to return to try more things. One problem with my streak is that I tend to order all the best dishes right away, so these may be the only three great dishes on the menu. But I doubt it.

Across the street I spotted a Shanghai restaurant called Uncle Cheung’s (266 Worcester Road, Framingham, Massachusetts; 508-872-9200). Could lightning strike twice in this supposed Chinese-food desert? Likely not, but I always like to give serendipity a shot, so I ordered, takeout (as I was stuffed), Shanghai soup dumplings plus the ultimate Shanghai soul food: soybeans with minced pork and bean curd threads. Nice people, authentic menu, no pandering, more or less “correct” cooking, but just no flair at all. My delicious-o-meter flatlined.

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Earlier in the day, between the tiniest chowconnaissance bites at a zillion Brazilian holes-in-walls, I managed to do something I’d always dreamed of: I ordered one of the wacky hamburgers at Magic Oven.

The Magic Burger, for a mere $5.75, fills a small grocery bag to bursting with a burger with cheese, bacon, egg, corn, ham, chicken, pineapple, lettuce, tomato, and a blizzard of potato sticks. How does it taste? Really really good. Obviously, it’s something you need to be in the mood for. I’d suggest, as a prerequisite, two weeks starving in a cave.

Beyond Uncle Ben’s

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