asian jewish deli

Next to pork belly buns, Momofuku is probably most famous for bo ssam. David Chang and his crew slow roast an entire pork shoulder and serve it along side lettuce, rice, raw oysters, kimchi, and ssam sauce. If this sounds like a lot of food.. it is. The recommended minimum party size is six!

Various Momofuku bo ssam recipes have been published in newspapers and magazines, so it was no surprise that one is also included in the Momofuku cookbook, although it is so simple that no recipe is really needed. A pork shoulder (bone-in recommended, but I used boneless) is rubbed in salt and sugar overnight, then slow roasted. Towards the end of cooking, you sprinkle on a brown sugar and salt mixture and let it caramelize. (“It’s like a shoulder encrusted in pig candy,” Chang notes.)

I will admit to skepticism when I put the shoulder in with just salt and sugar, but the end result shows complexity far beyond the humble ingredients. Lettuce with rice, kimchi puree, ssam sauce (sweet, sour, and savory), and ginger scallion sauce provided the perfect accompaniments to wrap the fatty pork in. I didn’t buy oysters this time, but I have in the past and they pair surprisingly well with the pork and kimchi.

The pork is one of the most versatile recipes in the book, if not only for the amount of food you end up with. The pork is good on almost everything: ramen, kimchi stew (upcoming post), on plain rice, with eggs.. the possibilities are endless!

Before the Momofuku cookbook I had only tried to make English muffins once, using a sourdough starter that I had been feeding for a few weeks. My luck with sourdough was always hit or miss, the bread sometimes rising, and sometimes not. I remember the sourdough English muffins ended up mealy with undercooked spots, and unremarkable nooks-and-crannies. Not so with Momofuku! These muffins, along with their accompanying bay leaf butter lard spread are wonderful, and well worth the time spent to make.

These English muffins require only about an afternoon’s work, mostly waiting for risings. The only tricky part was setting my flat-top griddle to the right temperature during the initial cooking. The muffins “bake” and get their nooks-and-crannies on a very slow griddle, and patience is required while you monitor them during the multiple flips that are required. My griddle was probably set too low so I spent a lot of time waiting and poking and peeking.

Once the initial grilling is complete, the muffins are finished in a low oven. While the finished results are great on their own, or with one of the slow-cooked eggs featured in the book, they are made even better with a spread made of butter and lard flavored by steeping fresh bay leaves. Even if you never make the English muffins, make the bay leaf butter—it’s good on everything!

One of the most common criticisms of the Momofuku cookbook is the lack of desserts. Indeed, cereal milk is one of only two sweets included in the book, but it’s unique and delicious, and probably unlike any dessert you’ll find in any other cookbook. (It also happens to be the easier of the two desserts in the book.)

The name “cereal milk” is really self explanatory—it is the milk left behind after you eat all the cereal from the bowl. At Momofuku, it is turned into an ice cream, and in the case of this dish, a panna cotta. Making cereal milk is as easy as soaking corn flakes in milk, then adding sugar and gelatin. The result is an elegant dessert that tastes like childhood.

The panna cotta is paired with a “chocolate-hazelnut thing,” which itself is made of praline paste and chocolate. Tying everything together is the unique addition of a simple avocado puree. (As odd as it sounds, it works.) Caramelized corn flakes are sprinkled on top, reminding you of where the dish comes from.

While this recipe is not difficult, it is time consuming to make all the components. I’ll be writing about the other dessert from the book (fried apple pie) in an upcoming post. That one makes cereal milk look as easy as a box of instant pudding.

Shrimp & grits is probably the most non-Asian recipe in the Momofuku cookbook but it really highlights David Chang’s commitment to good food, even if it doesn’t necessarily fit peoples’ expectations. This is a fairly standard preparation of grits, except substituting ramen broth for water and using soy sauce for seasoning. The shrimp is quickly sauteed in the fat from the bacon, and the whole thing is topped with a slow-cooked egg and green onions.

While these grits were good I enjoy my grits with massive amounts of cheese in them, so I missed the extra richness from my regular grits. Using the ramen broth is genius and adds a very noticeable hit of umami. The yolk from the slow-cooked egg was a good substitute for the quick pan gravy I usually make with my shrimp & grits. If you’ve never made shrimp & grits before, this is a good starting point. If shrimp & grits are already a part of your repertoire, you can’t go wrong subbing in some broth for the water next time.

Oh my. This dish is so delicious. In the Momofuku cookbook David Chang writes about the substitution of smoky American bacon for dried and smoked Japanese fish in dashi broth as an important early success  and an example of the philosophy behind their cooking.

We respect tradition and we revere many traditional flavor profiles, but we do not subscribe to the idea that there’s one set of blueprints that everyone should follow. I think that in the questioning of basic assumptions–about how we cook and why we cook with what we do–is when a lot of the coolest cooking happens.

Bacon dashi really does look and smell like traditional dashi, but is unctuously porky instead of fishy. I simmered quartered new Yukon potatoes in the bacon dashi, then tossed in Manila clams just until they opened. Topped with julienned green onions and crispy bacon, this dish is so simple, warming, and fulfilling. There really isn’t anything more to say.

Who doesn’t like fried chicken? I have been making the same fried chicken for years (pictured here and here), and have lusted after Korean fried chicken, so was excited to try David Chang’s version from the Momofuku cookbook.

Chang’s chicken is brined for several hours, which helps the flavor tremendously because he doesn’t use any dry rub or batter/dredge. The chicken is cooked in a two step process, starting with a steam, followed by a fry, with a thorough chill in the fridge in between. I have seen this steaming technique used in the past with chicken wings by Alton Brown and have been skeptical, but I’ll have to admit that it works well. The steaming cooks the chicken and renders fat out of the skin requiring deep frying for only a few minutes. The shorter time in oil produces a non-greasy, non-oily, crispy thin skin. (It was immediately after I threw out the steaming water that I realized that the chickeny/schmaltzy water would have made great rice. Next time!) After frying the chicken is tossed in a garlicky, gingery vinaigrette that Chang refers to as “octo vin”.

I found that the chicken, while cooked very nicely, didn’t stand up to the pungent vinaigrette. The entire process, from brine to the quick fry is designed to showcase the chicken itself. Chang writes that they use the expensive and flavorful poulet rouge in the restaurant, so the minimal technique makes sense. I was using commonly available Foster Farms Washington grown chicken, which is good but probably too subtle for this technique.

If I come across a poulet rouge or a poulet de Bresse I’ll give this recipe another shot. I may try the two step cooking with my regular fried chicken, and the octo vin will remain a staple in my fridge.

(Sorry about the bad picture. We were hungry!)

The Fuji apple salad from the Momofuku cookbook is quite simple, but I will admit that I did not make my own napa cabbage kimchi, as I suspect most home chefs won’t. If I used it every day I would try making it (and I still may), but I imagine most people will not want to make the space (and funk) commitment in their refrigerators.

Whether you make your own or buy kimchi, the Fuji apple salad is no more than cubed or sliced apples tossed briefly in kimchi, plated with crispy bacon, greens, and a maple-labne (thickened yogurt) sauce. Perhaps I did not let my apples sit in the kimchi long enough, or maybe Washington apples are better than the New York ones David Chang uses, but the kimchi just wasn’t strong enough. Incidentally, Chang wrote this regarding regional apples:

I’ve always said that New York has the best apples…but Fuller did a version of our Fuji Apple Kimchi salad and I have to say that their version was so much better than ours I couldn’t believe it. The fucking apples were the best damn Fuji apples I’ve ever had—crisp, juicy, tart. I forgot that Washington State also grows apples, the fuckers.

Chang calls for cured and smoked jowl for this salad, whereas I used regular bacon, but the idea was similar. Overall the flavors were interesting together, but I did wish for a little more kimchi funk. Next time I’ll let the apples sit in the kimchi puree longer. The maple-labne sauce kept everything grounded with its slight earthy sweetness, and I’ll make it again just to eat on its own.

I’ll be back after the holiday with more from Momofuku!

Bánh mì holds a very special place in my childhood, being one of my first and most vivid flavor memories. My favorite sandwich shop is still the one my mom bought from when I was little, despite somewhat falling by the wayside next to trendier shops like Seattle Deli. I only ever order the traditional cold cut sandwich, with extra pâté, untoasted. I attribute my love of liver products to this early exposure to chicken liver pâté.

Following a trip to New York, one of my friends declared the Momofuku bánh mì the best bánh mì he had ever eaten, but until I can plan a trip, the recipe in the Momofuku cookbook will have to suffice…and it more than lives up to its reputation. The two terrines, chicken liver and ham, described in the book are dead simple to make (“easier than making meatloaf”, says Chang), and they make enough for probably 20+ sandwiches. I’ve read conflicting reports as to whether a third terrine, a veal headcheese, is included in the restaurant sandwich (Chang writes that they no longer use it). Either way, I wish they had put that recipe in the book!

Using only the two terrines still yields a bánh mì worthy of comparison to the sandwiches from my youth. The ham terrine, a “ghetto-simplified and lightly Vietnamesed jambon persillé“, scented with bay leaf, star anise, and cinnamon is a great foundation to built the rest of the sandwich on. The chicken liver terrine, heavily seasoned with fish sauce and five-spice powder, tames the liver funk with ground pork. The two together are earthy, meaty, and delicious.

If I had to pick a favorite ingredient out of a bánh mì (very difficult because the sandwich is so balanced if made correctly), it would have to be the pickled daikon. I remember picking them out and eating them by themselves when I was little. They are so simple to make, I can’t imagine not having a jar of them in my fridge. (Post on pickles upcoming.) Along with the pickles, Chang calls for Kewpie mayonnaise, sriracha, and cilantro. A note about Kewpie: it’s the best mayonnaise in the world! I love that Chang uses a store-bought mayonnaise at his restaurants. He knows when something is good and not to be messed with.

This is probably my favorite recipe from the cookbook. It really hits a personal note, and I will never tire of a good bánh mì. The first day I made the terrines I ate three sandwiches and have had one a day since then. It’s that good.

These buns are something I have made in the past, even before the Momofuku cookbook was released. Normally I make them with red-cooked pork belly, recipe courtesy of my friend Lorna, but for these ones I used the roasted pork belly from the ramen, a prime example of the versatility of these recipes.

You really can’t get much simpler than this: rub the pork belly with equal parts of sugar and kosher salt, let it cure for a few hours, then roast. David Chang has a good narrative in the book describing the reasoning behind his roasting technique, which involves high heat for a short period, followed by a low and slow oven until finished. (A tip if you are following the book, I recommend a rinsing of the salt/sugar mixture off pork belly before you roast it. The seasoning is fairly aggressive if you want to eat the belly on its own, and why wouldn’t you want to eat the belly on its own?)

A Momofuku inspired touch was the addition of a quick pickling to usually bare cucumber (pickling will be the subject of an upcoming post). To finish the bun: a dollop of hoisin, a slice or two of pork belly, two or three slices of pickled cucumber, and scallions. As for the steamed buns, there is a recipe in the book, but the frozen ones I buy are pretty good. Like with the noodles for ramen, the chef doesn’t want you to work too hard.

If you have…a Chinese bakery or restaurant where you can easily buy them, or even a well-stocked freezer section…I encourage you to exercise it without any pangs of guilt. How many sandwich shops bake their own bread? Right.

These are so simple and so good that it is really easy to eat three, four, or five of these buns without realizing. Chang describes these as an eleventh-hour addition to their menu, a throw away idea. They have since become Momofuku’s signature dish, and it is very easy to see why.

Ramen has a notable place in the Momofuku cookbook being the first picture in the book, the first recipe, and the subject of one of the first narrative stories. Fittingly, I chose ramen to be my first foray into the official-Momofuku-cookbook-world.

Making ramen stock is no more difficult than making any other kind of stock, but I can understand a Swanson canned broth user being intimidated by such a large amount of liquid simmering for hours on their stove. Is it worth it? Definitely.

As mentioned in the Momofuku introduction, this recipe is broken up into multiple sub-recipes, many of which could be optional, and all of which can be used in other recipes in the book (or eaten on their own). The only required elements are the broth, of course, and noodles. Did I make my own noodles? No. David Chang doesn’t mind. From the noodle recipe introduction:

But, and this is a big but, I really don’t think you need to track down alkaline salts or kansui and make these noodles…Substitute any other homemade pasta you like, or fresh lo mein, which you can buy in any half-respectable Asian food store or supermarket.

The other elements of ramen that I did make: roasted pork belly, pickled bamboo shoots, and slow-poached eggs. In upcoming posts I’ll talk about how the pork belly can be used in buns, how the bamboo shoots can be used on a pickle plate, and really, how can’t a runny poached egg be used? The raw ingredients used in the broth itself are also not wasted—spent shiitakes were pickled, chicken was shredded (to be served both in the ramen and on its own with ginger-scallion sauce, also from the book), blanched bacon was fried up.

As for the flavor, my only real benchmark for ramen comes from Samurai Noodle here in Seattle and it sets a fairly high standard. The Momofuku ramen comes close enough that adding in the homemade factor sends it to the top of the chart. The ramen broth is not as in-your-face as Samurai, leaving a lot of room for complexity and subtlety from the layers of ingredients used to make it. It has great mouthfeel, owing to the pork neck bones and a nice smokiness from the bacon, all on top of heavy umami from the konbu and shiitake.

For this recipe, the cost of ingredients is pretty low and the time investment is mostly inactive. Pull out your biggest stock pot, throw it all in, and put on Tampopo while you’re waiting. The $0.10 packet of Top Ramen will be history!