My Top 5 Bites from New York

New York is a city of plenty. There are plenty of people, plenty of cabs, and plenty of fantastic places to eat. It would be physically impossible to eat everywhere or everything in New York, even for those as calorifically inclined as us. Thankfully, on our most recent visit we were located in Soho, with an absolute bounty of tasty treats to get our hands on. We struggled, frequently, with what the most acceptable number of meals in a single day was. But I'm happy to report that in amongst what seemed like endless feasts, we uncovered some truly wonderful bites that I'd like to share with you.

It's worth prefacing this with a sincere admission that pretty much any of these choices may be fervently, if not violently, argued by New York locals. There's always somewhere better, newer, more authentic, or god help us, more difficult to get into. There are defintely cheaper places too, because wow does eating in New York get expensive fast. At no point did we ever feel like the best things we ate weren't worth the price, but when you start averaging $60 a meal, you look forward to cooking at home again. That said, even I wouldn't attempt to recreate the best items on this list, because there are years and years of skill, practice and wisdom woven into every bite.

5. Cheese Slice, Joe's Pizza

There are few things more joyous in New York than embracing the wonder of pizza by the slice. Slices which more often than not resemble molten star destroyers, but still enjoy the pricing that a 'slice' suggests. Coming from a city where such things don't really exist, we took full advantage of this. After one night out, we had three slices as a nightcap. That's as amazing as it sounds.

Joe's Pizza, on Carmine & Bleeker is as much of an institution as a pizza purveyor can get. It is literally busy at every single hour of the day (and peaks at 3am, tellingly). I have no shame in saying I visited at 4:30pm, because there is never a bad time for a slice of pizza.

Joe's offers three options: a cheese slice, a fresh mozzarella slice, and a sicilian which is basically a massive brick-sized slab of deep dish. You can add a single topping if you wish, but then you're messing with a perfect formula. I opted for a cheese slice because you always start with the classics.

Plenty has been written about how pizza crusts (and bagels) taste different in New York because of the water. It's just as likely that one of the secret ingredients is sweat (or maybe swearing), because it really does taste different. The thing to note is that a New York slice is nothing like proper Italian pizza, so throw that comparison out immediately. This is an entirely different beast - greasy, chewy, crispy, light but strong enough to fold in half and probably fly if you asked it to. The cheese and tomato are deceptively well balanced, with both giving you a luxurious mouthful before you get to the edges and tear your way through the crust.

At any time of day, no matter what state you might be in, a cheese slice in New York is probably the best answer you can find.

4. Hot Fried Chicken & Honey Biscuits, The Dutch

Oh my word. If you like fried chicken, and the idea of eating it with scones makes you giggle, you need to try this.

The Dutch is a bright, bustling and fairly pricey venue that specialises in American fare (witness the utter might and supremacy on display in their double cheeseburger). I am a complete sucker for fried chicken, particularly because very good versions are notoriously tough to find. The fact that it came with a glistening pair of biscuits that looked like golden nuggets from sugar mountain meant there was basically no hesitation on my part.

Two things immediately leap out at you with this dish: first, the unbelievably crispy batter on the chicken, encasing perfectly cooked meat. Second, the hilariously spicy coleslaw! Yep, that little bowl in the corner supplied a ferocious hit of chilli that was both unexpected and the perfect companion to the honey biscuits. Biscuits have always been a fun little curio for me, feeling like the raucous, sugar-charged cousins of our stoic and far more serious scones. These were much softer, sweeter and lighter, with a wonderfully moist texture that never had me reaching for my drink after a bite. All three worked perfectly together, and I was overjoyed with the generous number of pieces of chicken. More pieces = more batter.

Should I return to The Dutch, I'd make it a point to get the aforementioned cheeseburger, because honestly it looked ridiculous. But I had no regrets with my dish, and if you're able to, just order both.

3. Mexican Street Corn, El Toro Blanco

This one was a complete surprise. For starters, this was a restaurant that we were recommended at the very last minute by our host, and one we'd never heard of. Furthermore, this dish was the very last thing I snuck onto the order, after ordering a frankly silly number of tacos and fresh guac. Lo and behold, however, this plucky little side strolled on to the table and blew everything else away. All of the dishes were good (the fried cod tacos were particularly on point), but the Street Corn took absolutely no prisoners.

See, take a look at that. Of everything on that table, who would have thought the simple looking bowl of corn would have left such an impression? But man, the flavours hiding in there. Smoky chargrilled corn, off the cob and mixed with a creamy, buttery, cheesy sauce topped with queso, chilli, spices and a perfectly sized whack of pepper. This is one of the only dishes here I'd even contemplate trying at home because it was just so damn good, but I'd be amazed if I got anything like these results. It's so rare to find a side in Mexican food that's this good, I'd recommend going just to try it.

2. Maine Blueberry Pancakes, Clinton St. Baking Company

It says a lot about Clinton St. that this is only place on this list that we had visited before. Discovered on our last visit, it was an absolute certainty that we'd return, and for the exact same dish. Admittedly no breakfast in the US can really fulfil its destiny without a side of bacon, but the pancakes are the unrivalled star of the show.

Three ludicrously fluffy pancakes, perfectly browned, laden with juicy blueberries and more piled on top for good measure. The unassuming dish on the left is a perfect blend of butter and maple syrup, so you don't even need to fuss with any obstacles between you and breakfast nirvana. You can pour or you can dunk, but I guarantee you will use every drop of it and then start eyeing up your partner's.

Here's the other thing: for people outside of the US, pancakes are one of those things you hear about in films or TV shows that almost never live up to the hype. They're stodgy, too dry or too wet, and virtually impossible to finish. Clinton St's pancakes are in every way the opposite of that. Not only will you love every bite, and eagerly finish (irrespective of the pain you may be in), but you will come back for them again. We did, and we always will.

1. DKA / Cronut, Dominique Ansel Bakery

The weight of expectation on this venue is pretty extraordinary. You hear whispers of people queuing at 5am for the latest monthly Cronut flavour. You hear about the limited numbers available, and the queue etiquette, with Dominique himself greeting shoppers when they open at 8am. You expect that it's impossible to hold up to these standards forever, and whether it's recession, complacency or just distractions, that somehow, standards must slip.

Nope. You walk in, you quietly gaze at the wonders under the glass, and then you receive perfection in pastry form. Now I can only comment on a couple of their offerings, but I vow to work my way through the rest of the menu on future visits. This is one of those destinations that you build into a trip from the start.

On this inaugural visit, I had two specific targets. The Cronut, and the DKA. One was very well known, the other was a local recommendation. Both were astonishing.

The Cronut was officially invented by Dominique Ansel, so the guy knows what he's doing. The original Cronut takes, as if by magic, a croissant and turns it into a donut. Many, many people have imitated it, but this is the real mccoy. And it shows. Aside from making 350 of them every single day, every month they also inject a new creamy concoction inside of it. This month the flavour is Pear, Honey and Thyme (the eagle-eyed among you will recognise the leaves). I'm not exaggerating when I say that the complexity and confidence in this flavour combination blew my mind. On the face of it this is a deep fried thing covered in sugar and icing, so of course it's going to taste great, right? But to orchestrate savoury and sweet in such perfect balance without any of it being too much: this is artistry at work. I absolutely hate the way "artisanal" is being thrown around like candy nowadays, but this warrants that title in every respect.

It would be easy to leave things on such a high note, but I can't separate the Cronut from my new favourite pastry:

The DKA is the best thing I have ever put in my face for breakfast. It is honestly a last supper kind of bite. I'd probably have one for the starter and one as a nightcap (with a slice of pizza). 

It's gloriously uncomplicated - caramelised, crispy pastry on the outside, and cloud-like buttery fluffiness on the inside. You can (and should) pull it apart with your hands and revel at the texture of it all. I always like to think that ultimate craftsmanship truly emerges when you can do something simple perfectly. It's hard to decide between this and the Cronut, so you can happily order both like I did and know that you are definitely in the hands of a master. 

I don't think I'll ever end up in New York again without visiting this place, and neither should you.

Back in the saddle: Chicken Pad Thai

It's been quite a while since I last wrote anything on here. Plenty has happened since 2013, and while I've never stopped cooking it's safe to say that there was enough turbulence in my life to blow out the pilot light. I am however so thankful for the people in my life who have never stopped asking me about the blog, or asking for recipes, as you have all helped me gather that little bit of kindling I needed to start writing again.

As ever, exploring a recipe that's loaded with nostalgia feels like a good place to pick up. Thailand has been close to my family ever since we moved to Japan in the early 90's, with distance and cheap holidays making it the perfect winter retreat. Our visits over the subsequent two decades were always colourful, vibrant discoveries of food, culture and personality: falling victim to the hottest meal I have ever encountered (a "thai style" beef glass noodle salad, no less), or staring in gleeful wonder at the reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, ushered by the proud kindness of locals who just wanted to share their favourite sights. At the same time, I have also experienced tremendous sadness there, arriving in Bangkok airport on December 26th, 2004 and witnessing the churning tragedy of the tsunami unfold in real time. Or going back to Phuket this year, returning to Thailand for the first time without my mother. My relationship with Thailand both as a place and a cuisine has pretty rich vein of flavours and memories: bittersweet, fiery, refreshing, comforting.

My mum and sister, Koh Samui 2002

Lunch on the beach, Phuket 2016

Now when it comes to the full spectrum of Thai cooking, Pad Thai is both one of the most well-known dishes, and one of the simplest. That's not to suggest that it's not full of flavour or exciting - thankfully it makes a great introduction to using Thai ingredients that aren't too tricky to find or handle. It's also, if I'm honest, a real comfort food for me and easily one of my favourite takeaway choices. When we discovered that our local Thai restaurant (Addies) no longer delivers, I finally had all the reason I needed to try and see if a homemade version was worth a shot. I'm happy to report, it really is. You won't get it perfect the first time, but I guarantee you will see the potential for just how good it can get.

Most of the ingredients that you'll need are relatively easy to find in London, and large supermarkets will cover most of your shopping list. That said, there are a couple that I want to highlight as absolutely crucial:

Tamarind Paste: this is what makes Pad Thai tastes like Pad Thai. The 'sauce' is made up of several common components like fish sauce, soy sauce and lime juice, but this right here is the secret that unlocks the whole thing. Find it, and don't accept any substitutes.

The other thing that makes a world of difference is the noodles. What you're looking for are "thai rice stick noodles", which are also used in Pho and most closely resemble linguine sticks but white and semi-translucent. Don't bother with egg noodles or vermicelli or any of that nonsense if you want the real deal. Easiest to find in any little asian stores or international sections of the big supermarkets.

I did try this recipe with "fresh" pad thai noodles, but I have to say, going with the dried version gave dramatically better results (and is allegedly the purist's approach, should that matter to you).

Side note: Sambal Oelek, as I recently discovered, is basically a malaysian chilli sauce that is packed with flavour and a lovely balanced heat. It's not anywhere near as essential as the two above ingredients (though you can also find it in the same places as the noodles) - any typical chilli sauce that you like can be substituted, it's just my first choice nowadays. I do however think that Pad Thai without heat is a bit of a travesty, truth be told.

Everything else is pretty straightforward and refreshingly simple, so let's get cracking.

For the Pad Thai "sauce":
4 tablespoons thai fish sauce
1 tablespoon tamarind paste
6 tablespoons water

Half a chicken stock cube
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
3 tablespoons lime juice
1 teaspoon sambal oelek (1 is mild, 2 is more fun)
5 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon oil

Everything else:

500g chicken thighs (skinless/boneless)

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 tablespoons soy sauce
350-400g thai rice stick noodles
2 tablespoons oil
5 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 bunch spring onions, chopped (leave some for the garnish)
3 eggs, lightly beaten
300g bean sprouts
a fistful of roasted peanuts, chopped (or more, if you like)
Half a lime, cut into wedges (use the other half for the sauce above)

First thing's first - cut up the chicken thighs into strips, and put them in a bag or container with the cornstarch and soy sauce. Mush them up to get everything coated and leave in the fridge, at longest overnight. This is actually a pretty handy marinade for any kind of asian stir fry when you want to brown the meat and give it a bit of extra flavour.

Grab the rice noodles and dunk them in a bowl of room-temperature water for about 10 minutes or while you're prepping everything else. Soak them until they're almost al-dente, and can wrap around your fingers, then drain.

Pour all of the sauce ingredients into the smallest pan you have, and simmer on low heat - what you're looking for here is for the sugar to dissolve completely, and then adjust to your taste. More chilli, fish sauce or tamarind, as you prefer. No matter what, this should taste pretty exciting already.

At this point, you want to make sure you've got everything prepped and ready at hand, because over the next few steps you will need to move quickly.

Grab your biggest flat-bottomed pan (or a wok, failing that), and heat 1 tablespoon of oil on high. Toss the garlic in, and 30 seconds later toss in the chicken. Keep it all moving until the chicken has started to brown nicely.

Once the chicken is coloured on both sides, use a slotted spoon/spatula to remove to a plate covered in paper towels and drain off.

Keep the heat high and add your noodles.  Add half of the sauce in smaller amounts at a time, until the noodles feel soft and chewy (this is the bit that unfortunately will take practice until you feel more comfortable with it). You want to soften the noodles, and let them absorb the sauce, without swimming in too much moisture. If things start to clump up a bit, add a little bit of oil to loosen things up.

Clear a little well in the middle of the pan, add a little bit more oil and sizzle the spring onions for 30 seconds before pouring in the egg. Scramble it around the pan quickly, until it's fully cooked through and no liquid remains.

Once the noodles and egg are nicely fried and lightly browned, dump the chicken and beansprouts back in the pan on top of the noodles and add the remaining sauce. Carefully toss everything together so that it's completely coated, and cook for a minute or two more to soften the beansprouts.

Carefully transfer the pad thai into bowls (I find tongs by far the easiest way to do this), and scatter over the remaining spring onions and chopped peanuts. Squeeze a lime wedge over each bowl and dig in! If, like my wife, you are a chilli fiend you can either sprinkle some dried chilli flakes on top or add a bit more Sambal Oelek on the side.