sybarites

Two random couples we met raved about La Cabrera, a barbeque restaurant in Buenos Aries, one fellow saying he would return to BA just to go there. We showed up at 9pm, an early arrival by Argentinian standards, just to ensure we could get a seat without waiting, which we barely managed.

The steaks are so big that it was recommended that we only order one to share, which we gratefully followed. Janet couldn’t even finish her half. We also ordered a salad which turned out to be nearly the size of a KFC bucket. Luckly we skipped the side of mashed potatoes with carmelized onions, which surely would have been bucket-sized as well. The steaks here were extremely good, but it is really the side dishes which made it an exceptional experience.

Most steaks in Argentina come without sides, which are ordered separately. At La Cabrera meat is served similarly to Korean food, with a dozen little ramekins filled with savory treats—antipasto, mashed potatoes, roasted garlic with a sweet sauce, carmelized pearl onions in demi glaze, sauteed mushrooms with gravy, picked beets, mashed squash, couscous and a couple of others that we didn´t even taste.

We’ll be trying to reproduce the experiece at home.

Before we had even set foot in Japan, I had compiled a list of things that we needed to do and see in our quick, 3-day stopover in Tokyo. Predictably, I listed things like “eat sushi” and “visit Imperial Palace” but the item that ended up being my favourite was “have drinks at Park Hyatt”.

The background here is that the bar in which the movie “Lost in Translation” was filmed is the New York Bar on the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt in Tokyo. I love that movie and so, in the same way that I insisted on visiting James Bond-related venues, I really wanted to see that bar. Plus, it has a great view of the city.

In order to cross this item off our list, we first needed to address the wardrobe situation. Being that we continue to travel exceedingly light (though I am now loathe to admit that we have had to purchase an extra bag to accommodate some newly acquired hiking boots required for South American treks), our wardrobe is limited, to say the least. My best clothes, my very best, are a skirt and black T-shirt. But I have no nice shoes and so the best clothes are downgraded even further to black pants, black T-shirt, black runners. Marc has a nice, collared shirt, but one pair of pants he has doesn’t match and the other pair is too small… Friends had told us that when they visited, they were asked to change into some clothes lent to them by the bar. We really didn’t relish being embarrassed by our clothes so did what we could to appear as stylish as possible and hoped for the best.

Then we set out on the journey to get to the hotel. The subway, including transfers, took nearly two hours to get across the city. By the time we got off the train, we knew we weren’t going to beat the 8 o’clock deadline, the point at which they start charging a $20 cover per person. Having already resigned ourselves to the extra charge, we started walking what we figured would be about a kilometer to the hotel. About a kilometer and a half later, we were lost. With some map checking and back-tracking, we finally found the hotel but had to further wend our way through the first floor to find the escalator to the lobby on the second floor, to catch the elevator to the 41st floor, to connect to a different elevator to the 52nd floor. One really has to want to get to this bar.

We arrived and were greeted without so much as a glance at our attire (whew!) and then were seated at the end of the long, high table near the back of the room (the one at which Bill Murray sits after he films “It’s Suntory time”, in the film). There was a live jazz quartet, a beautiful menu and a great cocktail and wine list. Marc veritably swooned when he had his glass of La Crema Pinot Nior and I was exceedingly pleased with my mangosteen martini. Midway through our drinks, we couldn’t resist ordering Crispy Veal Sweetbreads on Risotto and Fire Roasted Sardines with White Asparagus Salad.

According to the menus, those were just appetizers but even in our alcohol infused state, we could not justify spending $80 for a rib eye steak or – perish the thought – $190 for the Kobe beef steak. We did have one more glass of wine, though. In total, for two people, two drinks each, two appetizers: $200CAD. Obscene, opulent, delicious, exquisite. Unrepeatable.

Rising at dawn, we visited the Tsukiji Fish Market for the height of the morning rush. After navigating our way through the trucks, vans and motorized trolleys, we found the main fresh fish market with hundreds of vendors selling fish whole, filleted or still alive. Men ran frozen tuna through enormous band saws while others filleted eel after eel or sliced off chunks of fish with a knife three feet long, any of these jobs requiring rubber boats, plastic pants and a wet suit like jacket to keep warm and dry.

Some of the tourists wore plastic bags on their shoes, but that is dangerous on slippery concrete floors running with water and blood. With fish and guts everywhere, I was surprised by the complete lack of smell. Perhaps it’s different in the summer, but on our visit everything was surprisingly fresh.

It was hard not to consider the enormity of it all—a vast industry cleaning the ocean of edible life. At no point could we see the entire market and this was only one market in one city. Live sea cucumber to whale bacon, all prepared or packaged to feed our enormous population.

Those contemplations didn’t stop us from enjoying a sushi breakfast at one of the many restaurants that fringe the market. In Tokyo, few people speak English, but most people are used to dealing with people who don’t speak Japanese. In this case we were directed to the wall menu for a choice of the $20 set or the $30 set and an Engligh drink menu was provided. As the sushi chef completed a serving, he dropped it in front of us on a black laquered board that ran around the bar, which was used instead of a plate. Wow, so fresh. Most were the usual suspects, tuna and shrimp, but one animal we only reconginized from the fish market—a sort of dark flattened shrimp. It tasted much stronger than a shrimp, not something I’ll likely seek again.

For the first and probably only time in our lives, we ate three different ethnic foods in the countries from whence they came: Thai food in Thailand, Korean food in Korea and Japanese food in Japan.
Just before we left Bangkok, we used up our last remaining bhat on a spicy green mango salad that was so spicy that I could see through time. We stopped in Seoul the next morning on a layover that was long enough to eat bibimbap with kimchi for breakfast, something we’ve been craving for months. Finally, we arrived in Japan and had a late lunch of a lot of sushi. I doubt we’ll be able to come close to replicating that phenomenon in the future, unless we have maple syrup in the morning and cross the border for American cheese in the afternoon. Doesn’t seem as exotic, though.

Our last day in Bangkok was spent milling around CentralWorld, a new mall with a grocery store of culinary delights. It was rated the 3rd best food retailer in the world and best in Asia. Grocery aisles intertwine with sit-down options, where customers can order sushi, bistro food, or New York pizza. A liquor section had dozens of brands of beer we had never seen before. We mainly stayed near food court that overlooked the store.

The Murahata Fruit Boutique, which was attached to the store, was particularly intriguing. Rather than buying a dozen apples or a bag of kiwi, one buys one apple the size of a softball or perhaps a pair of different apples, including one with a chinese character printed on the side. Whether the fruit is apple, kiwi or melon, each piece is the best of the farmers’ craft, the pinnacle of a simple tradition. Each is perfect in appearance and exceptional in flavour. The melons have perfect T-shaped stems, the kiwis are the size of a fist and the strawberries are bright red. I was able to sample one small piece of apple, which was mild and sweet, not acidic or sharp. As tempted as a was, I couldn’t convince myself to buy the $4 apple or the $20 melon.

We did spend the extra $2 to get the sofa seat at the movie theatre when we watched Pursuit of Happiness. In addition to the typical cup holder, a small tray was provided and the seat backs reclined. And best of all, no arm rest to prevent snuggling.

Recently, we’ve come across a series of “Best of” items. The first three were not something I expected to discover while in Bangkok. The fourth is something I never expected to discover.

Best Steak & Best French Fries – This is no exaggeration (though we have yet to visit Argentina, so it’s possible this blue ribbon for steak will not last long).

We came across both of these things in one restaurant, or rather, a micro-restaurant that just opened its doors on Th. Phra Arthit, called Mr. Pas. We think we understood that the chef (a Thai fellow who owns the place with his brother) studied with Gordon Ramsey, of “Hell’s Kitchen” fame. (I can’t believe we were lucky enough to stumble upon this place as we were walking by!) We ate lunch the first time we walked in: Hawaiian Chicken Burger and Fish & Chips, henceforth known as “the Best Chips/French Fries”. Simple enough dishes but they were crafted exceptionally well, and were remarkably reasonable in price, especially considering the care taken in preparation. We could barely wait 30 hours to return for dinner, which was a parma-wrapped steak with asparagus mashed potatoes for Marc and a mustard-crusted pork chop for me. Now this- this was outstanding. The steak was done perfectly to request and just melted in the mouth. Melted! My chop, served with warm raisin compote, was golden, garlicky, tasty, brilliant. Oh yeah! We also had an exquisite starter of chicken livers sauteed in a whiskey reduction; though, as this is the first chicken liver I’ve ever had, it doesn’t yet warrant a “Best Of” rating. We are going back for dinner tonight and my mouth is already watering. Unfortunately, they don’t serve wine, just beer. No liquor license yet?

Best French Toast – This meal raised french toast to a whole new level. Another place we credit ourselves with findin is Ricky’s Cafe. (It’s actually in the most recent Rough Guide travel guide but we don’t have that guide so I take credit for finding it on our own.) The reason this french toast wins the “Best Of” award is because it is actually banana french toast. Who would’ve thought? Mix egg with smashed up, fresh banana and use that to coat the bread before frying = fantastic. It was out of this world. We’ve been back for breakfast there every day but one since we’ve been in Bangkok; they also serve a delicious blue-cheese omelette.

Best Outdoor Aerobics – I went out on Valentine’s day to the Tesco grocery to procure food for our hotel-bed picnic that evening. Outside the Tesco, near the doors to the KFC, a pile of people had assembled to do aerobics. There was a guy wearing tight shorts and a microphone who was directing the activity from a stage set up on one end of the block, and the people following his direction covered the entire sidewalk to the other end. I had to walk in the street to avoid being aerobic-ed. It was great. Plus, it was really hot (by Canadian standards) so these people deserve extra credit for not only exercising, but doing so in the heat, within spitting distance of a fast-food joint. Now that’s dedicated health management.

I would like to say that the majesty of the former residence of Lao Royalty inspired us to crave a more delicate cuisine but I would be lying. It was actually just a question of unbridled gluttony. But the residence was impressive, especially the Limoges china and bohemian crystal. And the antique sideboards in the dining room. (Can you see where this is leading?)

L’Elephant. This is the name of the restaurant at which we melted. They serve French food, impeccable with all the details and ceremony which we love. Marc won the toss so he got to order the duck, with a starter of French onion soup. However, I won in the end with the starter of greens with blue cheese dressing and pork fillet, sauteed wild mushrooms and *swoon* garlic mashed potatoes. Dreamy. Plus wine: exquisite. We went back there twice.

And then there was the Laos restaurant owned by the same group called Three Nagas. With Doug and Amy, we treated ourselves to a traditional Laos feast with stewed water buffalo (for the record: chewy), various savoury soups, minced pork wrapped in lemon grass, and steamed fish stuffed with pork. The laminated article posted outside the restaurant said that this place offered a taste of Laos that is different from Vietnam, different from Thailand or Cambodia and they were right. We could taste Laos in the dishes, taste the unique flavours and the bold meats. Except what we couldn’t taste past the spiciness.

I could go on about the food, about the great espresso that the bakery up the street made, about the fantastic cheeseburger at the sports bar, but I won’t because it would be better to take note of the falls. All tourists who visit Luang Prabang are required to visit Kuang Sy waterfall, about one hour outside of town along one of the dustiest, bumpiest road in existence.

I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

It was like something out of a coffee table book of pictures describing what one can see in the jungle. Or like what I imagine the first Europeans, foraging through Indochina, found and then described in letters written home and in voluminous, romantic essays. Though I’m pretty sure that those foraging falang didn’t wear their bathing costumes under their clothes so as to take a dip in the frigid blue water.

It was frigid. It was breath-takingly icy, especially when you put your head under. But the wine that we brought with us up to the falls warmed us right up.

Oh, those French. I can just imagine the life of leisure in which those colonialists must have drifted while in Vientiane. It’s warm in the day, but pleasantly cool in the evenings, the Mekong drifts slowly by the city and there is no chance of running out of French food.

While we did step out to do a small amount of touristing while in the city – most notably the monument known as the “Vertical Runway” because it was built using concrete donated by the US for building an airport runway – our main focus was truly on the food. There are just too many places to eat, too many cuisines to sample, too many balconies on which to relax and too many cafes in which to chill. We did our best to eat as much as humanly possible while there and were joined by Doug and Amy whom we met a couple months ago in India; it is brilliant to have friends once again.

The top two meals have to go to the the cafe where we ate breakfast three days in a row, and the DaoFa Bistro on one of the main streets in town. The breakfast place served some world-class, buttery, croissants and espresso. After days and days of Vietnamese pho to start the day, to have a little French in the morning made me melt. This place also set us up with a take-away lunch for our bus ride up to Vang Vieng and that meal earns the gold medal in the Lunch on a Bus category: fresh green salad (salad!!) with peppery vinaigrette and fresh, whole baguettes – one with chicken and wild mushrooms and one with real roasted beef, potatoes and grainy mustard. The heretofore gold medal holder was Pringles and oranges so this new champion will surely not be beat.

DaoFa hit dead centre of our weak spot: wine. We had to create a meal between lunch and dinner just so that we could enjoy a little carafe at a sidewalk table. I got a ham and cheese crepe, which was no slouch, but Marc won with the smoked-duck salad with walnuts and prunes. Smoked duck! Prunes! I can’t believe we left Vientiane without going back but there were just too many places and not enough stomach.

On our first night in Hanoi, we visited Highway 4, a restaurant we happened to come across while wandering in the old quarter of the city. We first flipped through the drink menu and were happy to find some flights of locally distilled liquor for sampling, of which we ordered two. Most of them had interesting flavours like ginger or rose-apple but some were un-finishable, like the one with the name that translates as “one night, five times, give birth to four sons.”

However, so as not to completely pickle ourselves, we ordered some snacks off the tapas menu. We were not, however, nearly hammered enough to order any of the items on this page:

Otherwise, we had a fantastic meal at a French restaurant here called “Cafe des Arts”. It might sound silly to be eating Western food when we have so much good Eastern food to try but I am weak when it comes to foie gras and cheese platters. Thus, we have prune-stuffed filet mignon with foie gras sauce and – heaven! – mashed potatoes, followed by a tray of French cheeses. We ate there twice in three days.

Completely unrelated, here is a picture of Hanoi traffic from our hotel room.

Traffic is a neat mass of confusion. The only way to cross the street as a pedestrian, is to walk slowly across the road while scooters, trucks and cars weave around you. The key is not to stop!
If anybody is interested, I’ve made an attempt at loading video onto YouTube; see a street in Hanoi.

It has been so rewarding to eat Vietnam with an insider. Our Easy Rider guides were so thoughtful as to order our meals and eat with us each day; that’s how we ate the best food in this country.

Before lunch on our first day, Bang stopped to pick up a few kilos of a fruit I didn’t recognize. It turned out to be passionfruit, our dessert for that meal and the following six. Cut in half, they are eaten with a spoon like pudding. Tart, sweet and juicy.


Along the way. we would stop at small eateries, mostly scrubby little joints with greasy tables and a woodstove in the back. A lot of them had names that were also the address and sometimes someone would be cooking meat over a tiny charcoal BBQ in the front. It was at these places that we would learn that bitter melon soup is eaten at the end of a meal, that tofu can be delicious when it is stuffed with spicy meat, and that crispy, deep-fried chicken can make an outstanding meal.

We also tried honey-barbecued squid stuffed with beef, stir-fried deer meat with morning glory, stewed wild boar, barbecued weasel (I think it was weasel; they didn’t know the English name for the animal but described it as “like a fox with a long nose”), and a fantastic seafood hotpot.


For breakfast one morning, we had Vietnamese steak and eggs, which were cooked as they were brought to the table on a scalding iron hot plate. The steak was actually buried beneath fresh coriander, tomatoes and cucumber and was only one of three different meats on the platter. We figured out pretty quickly that Vietnamese people love meat- I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one week.

Plus, at breakfast, there was always hot, Vietnamese coffee with sweetened condensed milk.