Annie Eats World

Annie Covets Voodoo Chips

I haven’t updated this blog in a little over four months. It’s a travesty, I know! So, to the four people who read my blog, I apologize. It turned out that building a whole new career takes a little more sweat equity than I expected.

This new year, however, I resolve not only to do my best to write consistently, but also to be realistic about my time and energy (since my body has officially entered its late-20s). To quantify that, I will shoot for at least a covet post every other week when I’m working on projects aside from this blog. Much as I enjoy blogging about glaze and bernaise, it doesn’t pay (as of yet, anyway). And with that, let me move on to this week’s love letter …

A few weeks ago, I took a break from work to see friends in my favorite city for some much needed R&R. We stopped by Ike’s Place, a local lunch spot known for good, homey, overstuffed sandwiches (stacked between two slices of lovely Dutch crunch bread). 

The sandwiches were oversized and very good, but don’t let the picture fool you, they weren’t particularly memorable (That is to say, other than the Dutch Crunch bread, I don’t remember anything about it.) The only part about this meal that made a lasting impression was the unassuming bag of Zapp’s potato chips that came with my ($11!) sandwich.

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Annie Covets Fosselman’s

This week, I’m dedicating my Covet post to Cadi, one of my closest friends. (It’s totes appropriate to thank her on this blog because she actually edits about 85% of all my posts.) We’ve known each other since summer school of second grade when she let me fall off the monkey bars right on my bum. (It’s probably the only reason she reads my drivel: Guilt.)

Cads, I love and miss you much. You were in my thoughts all week. I hope you had a wonderful birthday because you deserve it and much more. Come home soon for a proper Fatties Anonymous celebration. (Oh, and don’t cry, this is a happy message.)

Now, on with the post!

Today’s Covet post is about Fosselman’s coffee n’ cookies ice cream one, because it’s for Cadi and two, because I’m feeling a little nostalgic. Let me explain.

For the past month, life has been hectic. I’ve been the editor and sudden unofficial project coordinator for a new docu-reality show set to premiere in China. Being that I’m the only Chinese speaker in the office, I’m often wearing more than one hat. It’s been great diving in head first, learning the new programs, keeping the pace, and problem solving, but it has also been exhausting. And when I’m tired, I seek comfort in the basics. Like ice cream. 

For the past two months, my calcium supplement came pre-packaged in a half gallon of Fosselman’s coffee n’ cookies. The creamy coffee base is filled with a generous smattering of Oreos. It’s heavenly and the perfect compromise for my nostalgia (coffee for the grown up and Oreos for the girl, thanks)!

Look, I love gelato and these hip new parlors that scoop overpriced flavors like salted caramel, lavender honey, and Guinness dark chocolate. But sometimes, when I’m feeling too much like an adult, a couple scoops of cookies n’ cream – and now, coffee n’ cookies – is just what I need to melt my problems away. It’s also a good reminder that when life lets me down, ice cream with my friends pick me right back up.

Happy birthday, Cads! Love you … make sure to keep an eye on that hot postman!

Annie Eats Comfort Food

It’s no surprise that I am a little obsessed with food (see: my Twitter, this blog, my Instagram, my brain) or that I find comfort in it or that it acts as a gauge for my well-being. But I don’t mean it in that stigmatized, disordered way. It’s just a part of who I am and how I grew up.

In my family, there is a potluck for every occasion: showers, births, babies’ first months, birthdays by the Western calendar, birthdays by the lunar calendar, good grades, college admissions, graduations, death anniversaries, holidays, even funerals. Naturally, when my uncle passed away a week and a half ago, my family found a way to work a menu into the service. In fact, I’m so used to having food at family gatherings that it had completely escaped my attention. It wasn’t until my brother and I had a second to sit down and take it all in (and by that, I mean, we talked unabashedly about all the names we mispronounced and familial titles we botched) that we noticed all the people nibbling on plates of shrimp dumplings in the pews.

Some people might think it’s strange or even disrespectful, but my brother and I looked at each other and smiled. For us, having grown up in the sort of family where all our social events revolved around food, remembering my uncle over dim sum seemed as organic and reassuring as a hug or a squeeze of the hand.

After we paid our respects, said our good-byes, we headed to what else but lunch. More dim sum, actually! So, once again, over dim sum, we ate, caught up with, and embraced the family members we rarely saw but suddenly felt a familiar and overwhelming affection for. It was heartwarming and delicious - and just how I like to remember all my family affairs.

Mayo shrimp with honey glazed walnuts. This has been my and my brother’s favorite dish since we were kids. This is just one heapin’ plate of comfort for us!

Annie Covets Euro Pane’s Punkin’ Pie

I know Sumi Chang’s Pasadena bakery-cafe, Euro Pane, calls their version a pumpkin “bar.” But what is in a name, really? That which we call a pumpkin pie would taste just as delicious and punkin-y by any other name, would it not?

So, why didn’t Sumi Chang’s pumpkin bar make LA Weekly’s list of “10 Best Pies in Los Angeles?” Was it because it’s seasonal? Was it because Euro Pane serves it up as a pumpkin “bar” instead of a pumpkin “pie?” Was it because they already had a pumpkin pie on the list and didn’t want to be seen as biased toward pumpkin fillings? I don’t know, but I feel it was an oversight. 

This is a cat. I don’t have a picture of Euro Pane’s pumpkin bar because by the time I remember to take a photo, there are only crumbs left. Instead, here’s a picture of an incredibly photogenic kitten. 

Far be it for a humble blog writer like me to criticize what’s worthy or not of being considered one of the “best pies” in LA. So, I’ll put it this way: Euro Pane’s pumpkin bar deserves to be on every punkin’ lover’s radar. Shortbread crust; a velvety, perfectly spiced and sweetened punkin’ filling. Call it a bar, call it a pie, call it JimBob. For a fanatic like me, Sumi’s version is easily one of the best pumpkin pies in L.A. The only downside to this pie is that it’s seasonal; the upside is that punkin’ season is just around the corner.

Euro Pane
950 East Colorado Boulevard, Suite 107
Pasadena, CA 91106
Map

Annie Covets Durian

Durian.

Durian, durian … the infamous fruit people love to hate and hate to smell. Me, I don’t drink the haterade, but it’s fair to say that durian is nothing if not unconventional and controversial. It’s a weapon of a thing, with its spiky outer shell, heavyweight class (5+ lbs), and distinct – many say, foul – odor. Some airports and hotels even go as far as banning it.

Personally, I love it. To me, it smells like cold sweetness. Actually, it’s the only fruit that can adequately take the place of chocolate when I have the sugar jones. The beautiful, bright golden pillows in the center are soft, sweet, and creamy. It’s like nature’s version of gluten free, dairy free, vegan custard. Durian’s unbearable likeness to dessert (the title of my first cookbook) doesn’t stop at taste and texture. It packs a heft of calories worthy of its category. A cup of durian weighs in at 350 calories, more than a serving of most ice creams. 

What a nerd.

Fortunately for my waistline (and unfortunately for my taste buds), most durians in the States are frozen and imported from Southeast Asia with the fresh ones costing up to $40. Being that I’m not the 1%, 5%, 10% or even top 25%, I usually settle for the frozen variety. So, when I stepped foot onto Vietnam soil last year, I was raring to go. I thought, “Great! I’m here, I’m queer, I’m going to binge on cheap durian!” Boy was I wrong. It turns out, on average, durians cost 200,000! Even in Vietnam! Sure, that’s in Vietnamese dong … which translates to US$10. But, even in the States, dropping an Alexander on one fruit says you’re stable and probably shop at Whole Foods. You can imagine, in Vietnam, $10 is a small fortune to retire on.

Okay, I’m mostly kidding. Yes, prices were a little high for that part of the world, but I wasn’t deterred from occasionally indulging in a durian or three. In fact, on my last day in Saigon, I stopped by a street vendor who helped me pick one out. It was a small, green little thing, cost about US$7, and was easily the best durian I’ve ever had.

So, there you have it: Durian, the Fonuts and Sprinkles of exotic fruits. The only difference is that this is worth every flipping penny-dong.

Annie Covets Banh Trang

Today, I covet banh trang (rice paper). More precisely, I’m craving the banh trang taco-sandwich happening in the picture below. 

I think this cost $0.25

The contrast of this Vietnamese crepe-taco blew my mind. The outer layer was warm and crispy, the inner layer soft and chewy. It was sweet and salty from the soy sauce, savory from the green onions, and nutty from the black sesame seeds. No reduction, compote, sous vide or spherification. Just rice paper. It was simple, brilliant … and probably gluten-free to boot. It was easily the best quarter I’ve ever spent. 

Someday soon, I’ll write about the three-day motorcycle tour that brought me to the banh trang shack that made these crepe crispies, but not tonight. Tonight, I’m nursing cold. So, I’m going to bed … at 9:03 PM on a Friday night. Sweet dreams, all.

Annie Eats Fonuts

I haven’t had time to post lately. I’ve been so preoccupied with a post-production gig in West Hollywood, I have skipped or forgotten to eat my lunches. I even worked on the all-holy American holiday: The Fourth of July. On that note of patriotism, I arrive today’s post: Annie Eats exorbitantly priced Donuts in support of her nation’s economy.

That’s confectioners sugar.

My friend and I walked into Fonuts, a “faux-donut” bakery in Mid-City-ish. We were greeted by a polite hipster as we oriented ourselves to the new-agey donut shop. Fonuts was quaint, clean, looked more like Fred Segal than Dunkin Donuts, closed before most people got out of work, and charged more than three times the average price for a donut. Oh, and everything was baked or steamed and their menu was dotted with gluten-free selections. By any measure, it was not a traditional donut shop except for the tired-shaped vegan breads in the display cases (hence, the name Fonuts).

(Now that I’m nearing 30, I try not to go out of my way for donuts as they seem to go out of their way to make me fat. These were baked, so, it’s like eating celery.)

Luckily, I’m not one to let traditional definitions of anything dictate my life. So, if they say they sell donuts, I buy it. In fact, I bought two: their top-selling strawberry buttermilk cake and the PBJ filled raised. Our order came out to $6.25 … for two donuts. 

In terms of taste, the strawberry buttermilk was good. It reminded me of strawberry Yan Yans, actually – a hair too sweet, yet addictive enough to lose count of how many you eat. The texture was strange. It was sort of damp and crumbly like a dense cake sitting in syrup. Luckily, the strawberry buttermilk glaze was strong enough to distract from the wet bread feel in your mouth.

The PBJ didn’t fare nearly as well for us. My friend was surprised because I am a peanut butter addict. I love most things peanut butter. I may like your cat more if it were named “Peanut Butter.” Even so, I couldn’t be persuaded to like this donut. I was even a little bothered it was so poorly made. The peanut butter and jelly were rolled into one thick ball of paste and stuffed in a thick, dry, yeasty bread. It was bad enough that I trashed it.

So, was Fonuts worth it?

Here’s the thing: Two weekends ago, I paid $15 to farm-pick my own blueberries. Last weekend, I shelled out $7.50 for Sprinkles ice cream. I’m not one to pretend that I don’t indulge in first-world expenses. Let’s be real, though; a donut is flour, water, sugar, yeast, maybe buttermilk. Unless it’s stuffed with lady-Viagra or the HPV vaccine, it’s difficult to justify spending $6.50 on two donuts, particularly when a throw-away costs upwards of $3. If you have a gluten sensitivity, Fonuts is the shop for you. If not, once the novelty wears off, a Bob’s raised glazed from The Original Farmers Market is much more satisfying.

Annie Covets Miracle Fruit

Today, I’m coveting Synsepalum dulcificum - which I will refer to as “Dulci” - and Gymnema sylvestre - which I will refer to as ”Sylvester.” The two are complementary, taste-altering plants. According to Wiki, both are commonly known as “miracle fruits,” but Dulci seems to always steal the spotlight. Let me explain why in this Wiki-like (or Wiki lite) post.

Synsepalum dulcificum (“Dulci) - The popular, well-liked twin.

If you haven’t already read the 2008 NY Times article or guessed from the biological nomenclature, Dulci is a berry that heightens the perception of sweetness. More precisely, scientists think a glycoprotein called miraculin temporarily alters the shape of sugar receptors on the tongue to respond to acids as well as sugars. This causes you to perceive acidic foods as sweet and sweet foods as cloying. It’s kind of like an acid trip on your palate. One small berry will make vinegar, for example, taste like chocolate milk or soda. Limes might taste like candy and apple cider vinegar like apple juice! What’s great is that the effects are temporary and wear off in about an hour. 

Gymnema sylvestre (“Sylvester”) - The neglected, quirky younger sib.

Sylvester, on the other hand, is much less flashy. In fact, compared to Dulci, it’s like the unfairly neglected, straight edge stepchild. Because while Dulci is out sweetening all the sour things in life, Sylvester inhibits it. According to Cooking Issues, Sylvester, a central Indian herb, prevents your taste buds from responding to sugar. It effectively turns a spoonful of C&H into sand and “dessert chocolate [… into] baking chocolate.” 

So, you see, Sylvester - the quirky, awkward twin - has been cast aside by the food media. Unfairly, if you ask me. I think they’re both equally interesting. I’m even going to make it a point to throw a miracle fruit tasting party with them both. I’m stoked. What should I call it? 

Annie Eats Zongzi

This past week, Chinese people celebrated Duanwu Jie, better known as the “Dragon Boat Festival.” I have to be honest, as a Chinese American, I have no idea what this holiday is about or why we celebrate it. As far as I know, it’s another excuse to gather the family together for zongzi, gossip, and humble-brags about their children. (You know, “Ugh, my kids are too lazy to clean their houses. I tell them, ‘No one will marry you with messy mansion & dirty red BMW … even with Harvard license plate!’”)

If you want to know the history of Duanwu Jie, you’re better off with Wikipedia. Every year, around the beginning of summer, I ask my mom when “that zongzi holiday” is. My specialty is the experience of eating. 

For instance, I can tell you that these steamed pyramids of glutinous rice are like giant Chinese tamales. They’re made with glutinous rice and stuffed with mung bean, peanuts, pork, wrapped with bamboo leaf and steamed. 

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Annie Covets Chicha Morada

I’m going to continue with the beverage theme this week and add chicha morada to my Friday Covet List. If you’ve never had it before, chicha morada is a non-alcoholic drink made of purple maize. Chicha morada is a typical Peruvian drink. It’s a little sweet, a lot cinnamon-y, and damn refreshing. The only place in LA I’ve had it was at Ricardo Zarate’s Mo-Chica. I’m sure Picca, the upscale fraternal twin to Mo-Chica, serves it as well. But maybe it’s fancier and organic.

This picture isn’t mine. I couldn’t find a photo of chicha morada in my archive. I thought this was strange until I remembered I was distracted with the feeling of death. 

I was in Cusco with some friends a couple years back, acclimating (poorly) to the higher altitude, readying my body for the abuse Machu Picchu was about to unleash on it. As luck would have it, I got the flu three days before our Machu Picchu climb. Typically, I don’t have any complaints about the cyclical breaks my immune system takes. Who doesn’t need a vacation every now and then? I know I do, and I try to take one once a year. So, who am I to begrudge my immune system for taking a breather every half decade (even though - and I don’t want to sound entitled, but - it’s kind of a round-the-clock gig). My point is, my antivirus was MIA and I had my ass handed to me trying to acclimate to the altitude.

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Annie Drinks Rosemary Lemonade

Chopsticks - the most useful utensil in the world.

For a long time, I didn’t like lemonade. It’s sometimes too tart; almost always too sweet; and every now and then, unpleasantly grainy. But last year, Project Angel Food changed my mind - and if you like, my heart.

In case you didn’t know, PAF is an amazing non-profit org that works to provide meals to people with life-threatening illnesses. They’re pretty much the noble realization of my two great obsessions: good food and feeding people.

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Annie Covets Black Pudding

About three to seven days a week, I’m a flexitarian. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s not a carnivore, not yet a vegetarian. This means I rarely, if ever, cook meat, but if it’s in front of me, I’ll eat it. And I’ll enjoy it. So, I don’t have a problem with eating meat. I just think Americans eat meat the way Asians eat rice or Europeans eat bread. But I guess excess is our slogan. So, at least we’re consistent. 

There was a time that I went over two months without meat and it was fine. Well, it was fine until my body suddenly decided it wanted meat in the worst way possible. (Which sounds pervy, but contain yourself, this is only a food - and sometimes travel - blog.) These meat cravings … they hit like tornadoes. They strike without warning, dissipate as quickly as they’ve appeared, and leave a wake of destruction behind. I’ve tried to predict a pattern, but it’s no use: There is no discernible pattern.

2012 

In March, I had a terrible burger craving. It’s was insatiable. I was eating burgers and fries once a day for two weeks straight. (As you can tell, this is not a health-food blog.) 

2010 

For a week, I had half-inch cut slices of ham with every meal. I don’t even like ham!

This week, the cravings are back. And I want some Ukrainian кров’янка (also known as кривава кишка).

They’re blood sausages made of pig’s blood and buckwheat. These are a few of my faaaaavorite things! Well, ok, just the buckwheat … but the two make a fabulous couple.

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Annie Eats pandan tofu pudding … in coconut milk & ginger-infused simple syrup!

For those of you who have had tofu pudding (pinyin: doufu hua), you’re likely most familiar with the simple steamed tofu in warm ginger syrup served at dim sum and dessert cafes like Phoenix Dessert. Since that needs no introduction, I’m going to focus on a Southeast Asian variation of that sold by V.P Tofu.

I’ve been going to V.P. for years. It’s the neighborhood tofu shack. Their customer base is made up of familiar faces from the San Gabriel Valley who may well have a regular time and a usual order. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t Cheers (first-generation immigrants aren’t inclined to learn yours or anyone one else’s name). But, there’s a feeling that this little storefront is a weekend ritual for many families in the community. For this reason, I have to admit, I had some reservations writing up this post. Luckily, any guilt was assuaged when I realized the four people who read my blog already know about it. 

Why so green, you ask?

The light green tint comes from a leaf typically used in Southeast Asian cuisines called “pandan.” (Fun fact #1: Microsoft Word autocorrects “pandan” to “panda,” two very different words that would’ve resulted in comically different meanings.) It has a mild and nutty taste and provides a great contrast for desserts. If you’ve ever been to a Vietnamese bakery, you’ve probably seen display cases full of green sweets and thought, “Wow, they use a lot of food coloring.” I’m here to tell you: Yes, they probably do. But at least a few of those items, including this tofu pudding, are flavored and colored with pandan juice.

Tofu pudding dressed with coconut milk and ginger-infused simple syrup.

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Annie Covets Mini Donuts

In honor of National Donut Day, this week’s Covet List is about donuts. Honestly, I’m surprised this is my first post about it. If you ask any of my friends, they’ll tell you that I’m obsessed with donuts. I’ve even considered law enforcement as a possible career choice. I only gave up the idea when I realized only tv cops got free donuts. 

Typically, I’m a raised glazed kind of girl, but I make an exception for the mini donuts from Zelda’s Corner in Venice beach. They bill themselves as sammich-makers, but my friends and I go for the cinnamon sugar donuts. Unlike most donut joints, Zelda’s fries ‘em to order, which is how fried dough ought to be made. When you get your half dozen, they’re crispy on the outside and fluffy hot on the inside! Addictive doesn’t begin to describe how good they are.

Testimonial: A couple years back, I took my pancreatic cancer fundraising team out for donuts. I figured, they helped me raise $10,000 in honor of The Dad, I could take them out for donuts down the street. My team loved them so much I ended up ordering 120 mini donuts for 10 people. They’re that good.

Annie Covets Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips

One of the things I’ve come to love about L.A. is how rich the food culture is. Say you’re searching for an authentic dish from an obscure region of the world. If you looked hard enough, you’d stand a good chance of finding a comparable version of what you’re looking for. That has been my staunch belief … until now.

For the past week, all I’ve wanted were some good salt and vinegar chips. I’ve tried Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, Kettle Brand, Ms. Vickie’s, Boulder Canyon, Tim’s, etc. (I’m not even going to list Lays or Pringles.) None of these compared to even generic convenient store brands in London. They’re too salty, too tart, too oily, too crispy, or not crispy enough. There’s no balance! This means I’ve been able to find good mochi, gelato, chichi, macarons, ceviche, blood sausage, but somehow potato chips have eluded me! 

The only S&V chips I’ve ever loved were the Cape Cod brand chips and I haven’t seen those in Northern or Southern California markets for the better part of a decade. Every now and then, I see baby-sized bags in overpriced sandwich shops, but I never get ‘em because they’re … well, overpriced.

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