Month: November, 2007
The 7 train wasn’t running all the way out to Main Street, which wreaked quite a bit of havoc on my travel plans all this weekend. As the wave of passengers spilled out in Corona where the fleet of shuttle buses were waiting on the street below, I spied a curiously costumed crew directing people to the Queens Museum of Art. I had to investigate.
Turns out that they were members of The NYC Decom Team, promoting NYC Decompression 2007 — the city’s official Burning Man offshoot. Like that annual eight-day long art event that draws tens of thousands to a remote lake bed in the Nevada desert, the Decompression Party was intended to draw creative-types to Flushing Meadows Corona Park–a place so chosen (according to the downloadable survival guide) as “like the Black Rock Desert… a location that may deter the casually curious but pique the interest of [the] genuinely committed.”
Count me among the “casually curious” then. I snapped these photos and continued on my way.
After weeks of intermittent discussions, we finally organized our group trip to Woodside, Queens for a visit to Ihawan, the self-proclaimed “home of the best barbecue in town.”
Located just a block east of the 69th Street stop on the 7 train, Ihawan offers a broad range of Filipino dishes, with heavy emphasis on the pig parts, for which the restaurant received the dubious distinction on the Village Voice‘s “Best of NYC” list (2000) of having the “Most Extensive Organ Meat Selection” in the city. One scan of the extensive menu and I do not doubt it.
I’d never before sampled Filipino food, which is far less widely available than other Southeast Asian cuisines–more on this when I get around to blogging the “Found In Translation” panel discussion I attended at NYU on November 13. The dishes are a mix of Chinese, Spanish, Mexican, Malay and American influences, reflecting a blend of cuisines with which the country has interacted throughout the centuries. There is a distinct preference for sour and salty flavors, and several traditional dishes still retain their foreign names, such as the perennial favorite “lechón” (Spanish for suckling pig.)
We had heard that this place is immensely popular with Filipino families, so we decided upon the off-peak time of Saturday at 3:00 PM to ensure that our group of 8 could be accommodated. The strategy worked, but only barely: almost every table in the modest, second floor dining room was filled.
In the week leading up to our visit, JL tempted us via email with hints of good things to come: as Chowhound star “bigjeff,” he waxed rhapsodic over the Avocado Con Hielo (avocado with milk and crushed ice–outrageous!), among other Filipino specialties unfamiliar to the uninitiated. That afternoon, we left the ordering in his and and fellow regular RL’s capable hands. Vegetarians not welcome.
Naturally, we kicked things off with Ihawan’s specialty barbecue: a couple of bamboo sticks of smoky, slightly charred, flat-cut pork, glazed in a sweet sauce. Also a couple orders of their “weekend special” Lumpiang Sariwa–a pair of light flour crepes rolled with assorted vegetables and topped with a crunchy peanut sauce. For contrast, we added an order of the fried version as well: the Lumpiang Shanghai–a dozen crunchy (i.e., deep fried) pieces of finger-sized wrapped rolls filled with minced pork and shrimp.
From there, it was back on to the meat, and combinations of deep fried–sometimes unidentifiable–organs. Plates of hot, fragrant food began to hit the table at a dizzying pace.
Chicharon Bulaklak–a tasty delicacy described on the menu as “deep fried crispy ruffle fat.” What is ruffle fat, you may ask? I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s the incongruously dainty name for the part of the pig known as the greater omentum: a thin fat-filled membranous sac that hangs down from the stomach, over the top of the small intestine. (Hey, the descriptions can only improve from here.)
Lechón Kawali–deep fried crispy pork, served with a small bowl of vinegary liver sauce… which perhaps sounds vaguely heinous, but is actually rather good. So good that SC reserved one final, fatty bite next to her plate, for post-dessert. (Hmm, what’s that tingling sensation running down my left arm?)
The pièce de résistance: Crispy Pata–deep fried pork knuckles. This incarnation of crunchy, gooey fried goodness–plates of which appeared before almost every group of diners–was accompanied by a chili vinegar to help cut through some of the fat. I find it hard to believe, though, that anything short of an angioplasty would be effective in that regard. But at least the pig feet keep you young-looking.
The rest of the spread: Inihaw Na Langonisa (grilled pork sausage), Pansit Bihon (sauteed rice noodles with shrimp, chicken, chinese sausage and vegetables), Kare-Kare (oxtail, tripe, eggplant and bok choy stew stewed in a thick peanut sauce), fan favorite Dinuguan (pork stewed in pork blood gravy, sometimes known by the Westernized euphemism “chocolate meat“)… There may have been more, but after a while, as the blood chugged laboriously through my veins, I lost track.
And yet, there’s always room for dessert. Here, the Halo-Halo (mixed tropical fruits, red & white beans with crushed ice and milk), topped with a delicate chunk of flan.
I regret that I had but one stomach to devote to this cause.
WFMU — “woof-moo” — is the famously eclectic, listener-supported, freeform radio station broadcasting throughout New York City and Metro New Jersey at 91.1FM, 90.1 FM in the Lower Catskills, Hudson Valley, Western New Jersey, and Eastern Pennsylvania. Along with its traditional radio broadcast — four times named the best in the nation by Rolling Stone — WFMU also broadcasts live over the internet.
The WFMU Record and CD Fair is the station’s biggest and most-anticipated event. Twice a year, the Metropolitan Pavilion in Chelsea hosts the fundraiser: three days of buying, selling, and trading CDs and vinyl, with all door proceeds going to benefit the independent station. Very different from the last time I was here for a shopping event. It’s quite a scene, actually: as much a party as it is a sale. Over 200 dealers from around the world set up long tables stacked with every genre of music imaginable… and several I’d never even heard of. Gabber? Illbient?
I’d never really thought of music shopping as a gender-specific endeavor, but the clientele this night was strikingly male-dominated. The food offerings reflected that: beer and pizza only. In one corner, Two Boots Pizza had set up a makeshift stand, with some admittedly dreary-looking reheated pizza, which nonetheless sold out before the night was half over. (I held out for basil beef at Pongsri Thai.)
Those “desperate collectors” eager to get first crack at the stock of the weekend-long sale could pay $20 for access during the first three hours; we paid $6 to browse with the rest of the masses after work on Friday.
The WFMU Wheel-o-Fate — $1 a spin for a chance at fabulous prizes:
Puerto Rican rapper Tego Calderón‘s DJ set.
We spent the next couple of hours happily sifting through milkcrates and cardboard boxes crammed with music, old and new, familiar and obscure. There was a time when I would wile away hours just like this. Not in years, though. In the age of iTunes are gatherings like these destined for obsolescence?
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