Over lunch at Poke Etc in Long Beach a couple weeks ago, my boyfriend looked at my lunch, a colorful two-toned splat of sauced ahi, all but eclipsing the rice scoop underneath, and asked, “So what’s the difference between a poke bowl and a chirashi bowl?”
Answering this was difficult for me, because what ISN’T the difference between a poke bowl and a chirashi bowl? There’s the rice (long-grain vs. short grain sticky) the fish (normally ahi vs. a large assortment), the sauce (none, or a light oil, or pretty much anything, if it’s fusion-y, vs. an austere soy-wasabi mix, if that) the accompaniment (mixed in, and might be anything from nuts to avocado to seaweed to onions, vs. always-on-the-side pickled ginger, sliced cucumber, and maybe gobo or something)…
By the time his eyes glazed over I was only halfway done with half of my half-and-half poke bowl (half wasabi poke, half ginger poke). They really do pile it on!
But is theirs the best poke?
I’ve been trying to answer that question since discovering (to my elation) that I am surrounded on all sides by poke. I live in a hotbed of it. Poke places dot the coast from Venice to Newport Beach as though Hawaii itself threw out experimental colonizing tendrils across the Pacific. (Hawaii, if your tendrils are listening, we love your poke. Please send more, and eventually stage a takeover.) Even my local crunchy granola market, Lazy Acres, has a poke bar with three different varieties of poke, priced by the pound – and even more impressively, all three are great.
Not all of the poke is. Bear Flag, in Newport Beach, swings wildly in quality, sometimes delivering containers of mold-smelling ridiculousness, and other times delivering divine, sweet, sesame-seeded morsels. Island Eats Hale Aina, in Torrance, puts all its culinary wizardry into crafting its superb lau-lau, and none of it into managing to make poke that doesn’t taste like someone upended a salt shaker over it in the kitchen. North Shore Poke, in Huntington Beach, must take its tips from IEHA; it soaks its poke liberally in soy sauce to the point where you may as well just drink a bottle of soy sauce. Fish King, in Glendale (not exactly on the coast, but I’ll allow it) has an extremely silky, extremely gingery version with unremarkable fish, which, smartly, is overpowered by the ginger. As a ginger lover, I’m not even mad. (Yes, I’m being inconsistent and unfair by not knocking the place which chooses ginger to overpower things with.)
Honestly, the contest is simple. It’s between Poke Etc. and a place called Jus’ Poke in Redondo Beach, which, if you’re familiar at all with dramatic setup, you’ll find is the one I’ve chosen for the Best Poke Trophy, hands down!
Jus’ Poke’s Original allows the superb quality of its fish to shine, along with the chefs’ carving ability. Not once have I found my teeth laced with connective tissue after a meal here. Not once. The fish is all brilliant red, cut in perfect cubes, sized for overly eager mouthfuls. Waiting in line here, watching scoop after scoop of glistening fish be plopped next to furikake-sprinkled rice and nestled between sweet and sour pickles or hot and spicy edamame or Hawaiian chips, your mouth gets overly eager for sure. It’s ready for those pillows of tuna, spiderwebbed with choke ogo, a purplish, veiny seaweed, and flecked with little pieces of green onion and sesame seeds. The whole thing is slicked with lightly scented oil, but nowhere does it overwhelm. The fish is the queen and ruler of this cardboard platter, and her flavors are her subjects.
Showing posts with label Hawaiian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hawaiian. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Monday, May 13, 2013
The Theory of the Dive
So, I eat almost exclusively at what most people might charitably call dives.
Why do I do this?
It's not because I'm a masochist. If I were I'd exclusively patronize eardrum-shattering bars or Pizza Hut or the deli food bar at health food stores. Or any place that uses lab-made capsaicin crystal hot sauce for the shock value.
It's not because I am a Guy Fieri disciple - I only know the guy's name because when I see it emblazoned on a formerly cheap, casual dive's wall, it's usually accompanied by jacked-up menu prices and hordes of camera-toting tourists.
And it's especially not, as one recent accusation implied, that I'm a huge foodie-hipster who only thinks restaurants are cool before they're 'discovered' (though I realize my last paragraph implies that there might be a grain of truth here).
Nope.
What follows is my Theory of the Dive. The Theory of the Dive is simple and (I think) intuitive:
If a restaurant is dirty, if it's small and the chairs grate, squeak, and wobble; if customers are crowded onto benches with strangers or forced to endure terrible music; if the waitstaff is rude, disinterested, or nonexistent; if there are cockroaches scurrying along the margins or the owner's baby runs around unsupervised; if the decor is neon green or 70's wood-paneled or otherwise garish; if some or all of these things are true, and the restaurant is still in business...
...there must be a damn good reason.
And that reason is usually that the food is phenomenal.
Think about it!
I don't expect everyone to be just like me and eat out solely for the food - I understand that people go out to eat for different reasons.
Some people like to feel taken care of. They cook for their family all the time and want to relax and have an experience where they are the ones waited on for a change.
Some people want to immerse themselves in some sort of crafted scene, an artistically constructed environment, and derive their pleasure from the aesthetics of their surroundings as they eat.
Some people treat dining as a social gathering and don't even notice what's going into their mouths as long as their friends are with them.
And some treat it as a stage. A see-and-be-seen catwalk of sorts.
The fact that I have different priorities than these people doesn't bother me.* I think it's obvious by the strained way I wrote those last four paragraphs that their preferences are hard for me to relate to, but their existence makes it easier for me to pinpoint a great restaurant just by looking at it.
All of the aforementioned eaters-for-other-reasons are eliminated.
All that's left is replicas of me. My food-obsessed, blinders-wearing brethren.
And if we're enough to keep the place open, it's almost guaranteed: there is something amazing hiding in there!
----
My favorite dives in the country (and though it should be clear by now, I emphasize that I say 'dives' with the utmost respect and affection):
Sahara Restaurant, Minneapolis. Hidden behind a fabric store, occasionally closed at prayer time, kids filing through with backpacks after school... all worth it for how well they cook their goat.
Ghareeb Nawaz, Chicago. Surly service, chaotic layout, excellent green chile chicken, 50 cent naan.
Good Mong Kok Bakery, San Francisco. Zero English from the cooks, zero lining-up prowess from the customers, best char siu bao in SF from a storefront the size of a closet.
Banh Mi My Tho, Alhambra. Half convenience store, half sandwich wizardry.
Sachi Sushi, Niwot. Shockingly good chirashi bowls in the back of a grocery store next to the dairy section.
Poke-Poke, Venice. Fresh raw fish sprinkled with all sorts of Hawaiian goodness surrounded by urine-soaked sidewalks, medical marijuana hawkers, and all-around kookiness.
----
*One exception to that rule is people who think it's appropriate to judge a place on the personalities of employees or fellow diners. This (perhaps irrationally) enrages me. The following are 100% real Yelp complaints posted for insanely delicious restaurants where I have had both amazing food and friendly service.
"...the restaurant is basically where fobby old asian guys who don't work go to talk shit and drink beer..." - a one-star review of Binh Dan Restaurant, home of excellent seven course goat.
(I'm sorry, how are these men eating food from their home country impacting your enjoyment of your own meal?)
"the lady could barely speak english...i hate when i go to restaurants where they can barely speak english, that's just not how you run a restaurant here." - a three-star review of Gae Sung, home of wondrous gamjatang.
(Come on, how hard is it to just point at a number on the menu?)
"food is ok, but be ready to learn about the owners political views and opinions about the world ..and they are not afraid to share it ha ha ha" - a one-star review of Zait&Zaatar, who makes the best chicken sandwich I've ever tasted.
(Oh no! Human contact!)
"I don't care that you can speak marathi, hindi, gujarati, and english. I mean congratulations that you know some many languages..but what does that have to do with my Sabudana vadas? So yeah, this place would get my 5 stars if the owner guy brought his yakkity yak down a notch." - a three-star review of Mumbai Ki Galliyon Se, whose owners constantly go out of their way to recommend the best combinations of their food.
(I have no words for this, other than I hope the guy never reads this review lest he erroneously think he needs to change his personality for this person.)
Why do I do this?
It's not because I'm a masochist. If I were I'd exclusively patronize eardrum-shattering bars or Pizza Hut or the deli food bar at health food stores. Or any place that uses lab-made capsaicin crystal hot sauce for the shock value.
It's not because I am a Guy Fieri disciple - I only know the guy's name because when I see it emblazoned on a formerly cheap, casual dive's wall, it's usually accompanied by jacked-up menu prices and hordes of camera-toting tourists.
And it's especially not, as one recent accusation implied, that I'm a huge foodie-hipster who only thinks restaurants are cool before they're 'discovered' (though I realize my last paragraph implies that there might be a grain of truth here).
Nope.
What follows is my Theory of the Dive. The Theory of the Dive is simple and (I think) intuitive:
If a restaurant is dirty, if it's small and the chairs grate, squeak, and wobble; if customers are crowded onto benches with strangers or forced to endure terrible music; if the waitstaff is rude, disinterested, or nonexistent; if there are cockroaches scurrying along the margins or the owner's baby runs around unsupervised; if the decor is neon green or 70's wood-paneled or otherwise garish; if some or all of these things are true, and the restaurant is still in business...
...there must be a damn good reason.
And that reason is usually that the food is phenomenal.
Think about it!
I don't expect everyone to be just like me and eat out solely for the food - I understand that people go out to eat for different reasons.
Some people like to feel taken care of. They cook for their family all the time and want to relax and have an experience where they are the ones waited on for a change.
Some people want to immerse themselves in some sort of crafted scene, an artistically constructed environment, and derive their pleasure from the aesthetics of their surroundings as they eat.
Some people treat dining as a social gathering and don't even notice what's going into their mouths as long as their friends are with them.
And some treat it as a stage. A see-and-be-seen catwalk of sorts.
The fact that I have different priorities than these people doesn't bother me.* I think it's obvious by the strained way I wrote those last four paragraphs that their preferences are hard for me to relate to, but their existence makes it easier for me to pinpoint a great restaurant just by looking at it.
All of the aforementioned eaters-for-other-reasons are eliminated.
All that's left is replicas of me. My food-obsessed, blinders-wearing brethren.
And if we're enough to keep the place open, it's almost guaranteed: there is something amazing hiding in there!
----
My favorite dives in the country (and though it should be clear by now, I emphasize that I say 'dives' with the utmost respect and affection):
Sahara Restaurant, Minneapolis. Hidden behind a fabric store, occasionally closed at prayer time, kids filing through with backpacks after school... all worth it for how well they cook their goat.
Ghareeb Nawaz, Chicago. Surly service, chaotic layout, excellent green chile chicken, 50 cent naan.
Good Mong Kok Bakery, San Francisco. Zero English from the cooks, zero lining-up prowess from the customers, best char siu bao in SF from a storefront the size of a closet.
Banh Mi My Tho, Alhambra. Half convenience store, half sandwich wizardry.
Sachi Sushi, Niwot. Shockingly good chirashi bowls in the back of a grocery store next to the dairy section.
Poke-Poke, Venice. Fresh raw fish sprinkled with all sorts of Hawaiian goodness surrounded by urine-soaked sidewalks, medical marijuana hawkers, and all-around kookiness.
----
*One exception to that rule is people who think it's appropriate to judge a place on the personalities of employees or fellow diners. This (perhaps irrationally) enrages me. The following are 100% real Yelp complaints posted for insanely delicious restaurants where I have had both amazing food and friendly service.
"...the restaurant is basically where fobby old asian guys who don't work go to talk shit and drink beer..." - a one-star review of Binh Dan Restaurant, home of excellent seven course goat.
(I'm sorry, how are these men eating food from their home country impacting your enjoyment of your own meal?)
"the lady could barely speak english...i hate when i go to restaurants where they can barely speak english, that's just not how you run a restaurant here." - a three-star review of Gae Sung, home of wondrous gamjatang.
(Come on, how hard is it to just point at a number on the menu?)
"food is ok, but be ready to learn about the owners political views and opinions about the world ..and they are not afraid to share it ha ha ha" - a one-star review of Zait&Zaatar, who makes the best chicken sandwich I've ever tasted.
(Oh no! Human contact!)
"I don't care that you can speak marathi, hindi, gujarati, and english. I mean congratulations that you know some many languages..but what does that have to do with my Sabudana vadas? So yeah, this place would get my 5 stars if the owner guy brought his yakkity yak down a notch." - a three-star review of Mumbai Ki Galliyon Se, whose owners constantly go out of their way to recommend the best combinations of their food.
(I have no words for this, other than I hope the guy never reads this review lest he erroneously think he needs to change his personality for this person.)
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