Monterrey - Cabrito

All out war this past weekend in Monterrey Mexico with the crew I grew up with. Us drunkards versus more stunningly beautiful super-ultra-conservative Mexican oligarch daughters than we knew what to do with, unfortunately, I don't think we won a single battle.
Thankfully, there was the food, and even though Monterrey is a fairly new inland industrial town, they do have one specialty - cabrito, baby roasted goat. We had our first chance to explore its wonders at El Rey del Cabrito, a block-long, mounted endangered species displaying, Monterrey baby-goat themed restaurant. We knew it was a bit gaijin-oriented when they kept offering us tequila, but we stayed positive and determined. The menu offered cabrito, every cut possible, but since we had a group of 12 and I was ordering, we ordered a whole goat and a half, and a head for me (there was no way I was going to let that one go). Cooked in a style similar to our Japanese ayu (see komida post photo 5/19/2005), split and ?grilled for a long period of time surrounding a steady fire, it was good. Not spectacular, but that was because it could have been better. The cabrito chicharron was not nearly as respected as it could have been (this was not the case in the rest of Monterrey, as I saw a 4 foot by 4 foot piece of chicharron at a supermarket = heaven), and was a disappointment coming from my "that is the only important part of the pig" tradition. What made it worse was that it looked like pork. Tender and clean tasting (expected), I had forgotten that baby animals don't have that much meat (lots of bones), so don't forget that the next time you push yourself through a third world hangover with fantasies of huge chunks of meat. Baby goat is definitely worth eating, even a delicacy, but next time, I will cook it myself.

Check THIS Out

So I'm a bit back-logged in my postings because I've been too busy eating. I live in some decandent forest of France now, but my photos are crammed full of foods from Asia-- the tamarind sauces, the savory zest of lime squeezed on fried noodles, the fragrance of burnt peppercorn and chili... something which seems a distant memory away. So here another distant if drool-inducing image. Sticky rice, steamed in a thick fond-de-je-ne-sais-quoi then fried with crab eggs and scallions, served with soups. This is from one of my favorite restaurants in Taipei, the Hao Chi restaurant. The You Dou Fu there is also excellent, with a mild oily sauce coating a the flan-like white tofu. The oyster omlette with the sweet gravy. The searing smell of the scampi in the skillet, infused with the fragrance of rice wine, salt and cilantro. The night market foods of Taipei are concoted with the unassuming practical genius of a hungry worker with Taipei beer in hand and looking madly for perfect and rapid aperitif, unsubtle in taste and bold in volume, and ever satisfying.

Fast Food of Kagawa

This happened in July. We rode around aimlessly for four hours, searching across the rustic countryside of Kagawa prefecture in western Japan, home of the legendary Sanuki Udon. My friend Koji and I had taken the exit off the highway and were winding across streams and hills and up into the wild borderlands of Tokushima, when we finally (after having missed the turn several times) came across THE udon place. We found it a bit incredulous that there were so many Udon shops in Kagawa, but here high school girls after school pop into their local Udon joint and order a quick freshly prepared Udon as if they were ordering fries from McDonald's. The Sanuki Udon, famous for the slippery dense al-dente texture, the white glistening surface of the thick noodles, is best served with the famous dashi (broth) from the same prefecture. One can also serve it with some grated raddish and a dash of broth-infused soy-sauce and some scallions. Koji and I were both crying with joy at the perfrection of the Udon here... two ruddy guys with big arms basically beating the shit out of the doughy pasta to give it its texture, and then rapidly boiling it in this big vat (which was constantly being heated by a massive wood fire underneath... the whole scene was Bosch-like and quite frightening). Along with the firm aroma of the bonito dashi and the cold mountain air, the individual noodles ran dan my throat in a lively casade of flavor and texture. But a four hour drive is a long time for what's basically fast food.

Pierre Androuet

My mother picked up Pierre Androuet's The Complete Encyclopedia of French Cheese, published in English in 1973 (originally in French, Guide du Fromage), and it is the best cheese monger perspective cheese book I have ever seen. The methods this guy uses to discriminate quality in cheeses are inordinately precise, so much so that you realize he is using them to pick out his personal preferences in each cheese, not necessarily the best representation of a cheese(whatever that means). He is the first person I have seen that uses the commonsense idea that cheese quality (for non-pasteurized cheeses) is seasonal. He makes it very clear that for every cheese one must know:

1. The approximate date when the cows are put out to pasture;
2. The length of time it takes to make the cheese.

Only with this information can one correlate the best milk producing period with the time a cheese hits the market, and have a better chance of finding the best cheeses truly sublime. I think it is interesting that the three special moments within the pasturing season when the cows give such milk are:

1. The sprouting of the grass (germination);
2. The prime flowering of the meadows;
3. The second growth of grass.

Fortunately, we do not need to discover these times in France (they are included in the book), and have the much more enjoyable duty of finding the best non-pasteurized cheeses when they are in their prime. I would live in France for more than a year just to do that. Shota, I found the French version, when you send me your address, you will get the book, the only commitment is that you need to share your experiences!