u m a m i

Madam, would you like some hairy cheese?

               

This is a typical breakfast served at our hotel. Freshly squeezed orange juice, breads, cheese plate of white cheese and stringy white cheese, tomatoes, olives, butter, white cheese with cherry preserves and more honey and spreads in little pots. Eggs are available too. In the beginning we ate everything, then just the eggs and on our last few days only coffee and juice. Much like in England and our love-hate tango with their full English breakfast.

               

As we can tell from breakfast the Turks love cheese. Most of their cheese are white, in big no-nonsense chunks and also in bags of ropey strings which the vendor grabs and pulls. And always, outside the cheese stalls in the markets, is one of the above mystery object. I touched it- it is really animal hair. The vendor would then offer a small chunk of the cheese that is matured inside this ?goat cavity, the cheese is like feta- crumbly, chalky (in a good way), salty, grassy.

               

On the second day we played tourist. For two hours at the Topkapi Palace, plenty enough already so we went on all the way to Nisantasi to shop for carpets. I bought a very big rug which on hindsight is rather too big for our sitting room but I could not resist the unusual blue green colours, as well as a colourful runner. Therefore on the second day we had a mission to buy a foldable sac to contain the rug. The Grand Bazaar was not much use, it is big and the architecture is a marvel and all that but to us it was just an overgrown souvenir shop. It is also not far from the Egyptian Bazaar, and on the way we walked through a wholesale market area for luggage and found our cheap collapsible plastic bag. Mission accomplished, we entered the treasure cave that is the Egyptian Bazaar. It is known as a spice market but is much much more. There are lots of spices, especially good for tracking down sumac, olives, teas, kebab seasonings and also unusual things like hollowed out dried eggplants and even Iranian caviar if one is so inclined. We discovered Turkish pistachios, the stuff that is in all the pastries and cookies out there. The shopkeeper pooh-poohed the idea of Sicilian pistachios, to him only the Turkish and the Iranian stuff are superior. We were not going to disagree, his pistachios were small, prettily pink-skinned, lightly seasoned and highly delicious. 

               

Other than spice shops and lokum displays, the other predominant stalls sell spicy beef called pastirma and more beefy sausages. My first encounter with pastirma was at Changa where we dined on our first evening, following Chubby Hubby's recommendations. The restaurant is the last word in hip and cool, the waiters wear LCD badges which displays their names like an electronic ticker tape. We sat on the first storey, where there is a transparent opening in the floor to allow diners to see the action in the kitchen below.

The food was firmly fusion and most dishes cram many seemingly incongruous ingredients together. As expected with inventiveness and fusion foods some creations work better than others. In a restaurant with such staying power (it has been around since 1999) it obviously has more winners than losers and on the whole our meal was rather enjoyable. Hits for us included a starter of scallops, pastirma and hummus which is an inventive twist on the rather more traditional bacon-wrapped scallops, also a very excellent dish of roasted lamb with red cabbage, sumac, pomegranate mollasses, peanuts and braised apple, and a stunning dessert of pear poached with chilli pepper and red wine served with milk mastic ice cream and snowed under with their local fairy floss pismaniye. Roasted salmon miso, coconut sauce, rose petals and coriander would have been better if they used fresh coconut milk, the packaged creams always sink whatever they're served with. Still, the most incredible thing we ate there was the breadrolls. Innocuous looking but when bitten and chewed up, it releases the aroma of rose petals, startling and delightful, leaving me to wander how they managed such an extraordinary feat.

               

Strolling through and around the Egyptian bazaar can make one very hungry indeed. We were not sure what to have for lunch and hoped for the best by going for the restaurant above the bazaar itself, accessible by a steep staircase from the short end of the L-shaped building. Bab-i-Hayat serves doner kebabs and sandwiches in a casual cafe below but upstairs it is expansive with many tables, cushioned canapes and soaring tiled ceilings, all rather splendid. One can select items from a buffet of hot and cold dishes or order from their menu of grilled meats. We pointed and got a plate assembled with rice, stuffed aubergines, chickpea beef stew, mini-raviolis and more stews and braises. Delicious and helped to fill the stomach until our mixed grill arrived and that was rather good too even though the meats looked like it could benefit from a longer time on the grill.

               

Most of our restaurant recommendations came from Chubby Hubby and Istanbul food blogger Cenk of Cafe Fernando. One evening when we did not have any place to go to and a kebab place that was lauded in that week's TimeOut was fully booked, we asked the receptionist to recommend something and he suggested Haci Baba. He even had their brochure to show us. We duly made our way there and found ourselves in a large restaurant with traditional decorations and every table occupied by tourists. Uh oh. To give them benefit of doubt, we ordered some dishes. Cold vegetable appetisers passed muster but when our main courses arrived we knew we had been conned. Our kebab plates looked like something a child can put together using their wooden pieces of food toys, you know, the type with the big slit in the middle for the pretend knife. My chicken fillet, which I had ordered because they were out of grilled aubergines, looked like a flattened blackboard eraser with fake grill marks and was woefully underseasoned, it's neighbours an espresso cup sized portion of rice, four, yes dear god, four pieces of pallid undercooked French fries and one thumb-sized grilled pepper could not quite fill up the plate. Husband's lamb shish-kebabs were no better, the cubes looked brown but tasted microwaved. I almost cried, this was not my idea of a Saturday night dinner. We felt bad about wasting food but decided to cut our losses and take our chances elsewhere.

Just around the corner from their rear exit we came across a corner sofrasi which I think is a Turkish word for home-style restaurant. Medi Sark Sofrasi (Istiklal Caddessi, Kucukparmakkapi Sok, 46A Beyoglu IST T: 0212 244 90 56-57) was occupied by three-generational Turkish families, young couples, the local toughies, we were the only foreigners until a group of savvy french speaking ladies walked in. Inside it feels like opium parlor, Bedouin camp and backpacker cafe all mixed up. Seating is on shared canapes and a large copper-tooled tray served as a table. The menu is short, I ordered the grilled aubergines and husband the mixed grill.

               

While waiting, we munched on freshly baked flatbread. It arrived in a big pouf and deflates after being punctured by impatient fingers. To scoop fresh tomato and cucumber salad or to dunk into a dynamite-hot spread. Haci Baba nightmare receding, we started to enjoy our evening.

               

The aubergines were smoky and melty, the skin charred so one has to scrape the flesh away and dollop them on breads or smoosh on the minced meat kebabs, I swooned on the first mouthful. Everything on the mixed grill plate was fabulous, from the red cabbage salad, parsley raw onion salad, various pides and obviously the grilled lamb and chicken pieces. The chicken drumlets were especially finger-licking good. The proprieter's girlfriend/wife/ lady friend came in and proceeded to eat bread and a huge bowl of salad. Just when I thought this is how Turkish ladies keep their figures, she started on a hefty plate of kebabs while the proprieter hugged a generous portion of said chicken wings. We cleaned up our plates and ate up the bread, then reclined on the chairs with full bellies and were able only to ask for tea to finish before waddling back to our hotel.

               

Haci Bekir is a well-known purveyor of lokums otherwise known as Turkish Delights. They have a small outlet on Istiklal Caddessi but we found a much warmer welcome in their outlet at the Asian district of Kadikoy, accessible by a 20 minute trip from Eminonu pier. Kadikoy on a Saturday morning was especially festive, there is a lively market and a few hundred pastry shops. The staff are quick to offer samples and before we knew it, we were tucking a few boxes of pistachio lokums for people back home. The shop is just opposite Baylan patisserie which Cenk mentions as famous for their icecream confections but we were saving our tummies for the main reason of the trip i.e. Ciya Sofrasi, so we only bought some chocolates.

               

There is actually three Ciyas along the Guneslibahce Sokak which is the main path as you wander along the market. Ciya Kebabs serve mainly kebabs and there is a cafe-kebab-sofrasi two doors down but we plumped for Ciya Sofrasi because I remember that in his blog Cenk mentioned a buffet area comprising a cold/ dessert bar on one side and a hot food/doner section on the other. Everyone coming in passes through the buffet turnstile and spends agonising minutes deciding what to eat, we did our usual point and hoped for the best. And it was amazing. The specialty is Anatolian cuisine which means not much to us, but it doesn't need a lot of knowledge to appreciate their various slow-braised meat dishes, the unusual wild vegetables, the clean flavours and the subtle aromatics. The cold buffet section is mainly vegetarian, we much preferred the hot dishes, somehow meat enlivens a stuffed aubergine like no amount of spiced and herbed rice can.

               

Even though we were approaching bursting point, I still stood up to look into the pots. Bingo, the messy vegetable dish looks like nothing special but it was sweet, leafy and meaty, with tender stems, reminding me so much of braised preserved mustard greens (mui-choy) from back home. The other plate is of Iskender kebab which is slices of meat from the rotating kebab stand placed on top of bread and slathered with sauce, honestly a bit superfluous considering the other dishes but husband had to have his kebab. A bit later I realised we could have asked for half-portions which would have enabled us to sample more....

               

We had to save room for dessert, in particular kerebiç which Cenk endorse wholeheartedly as something which would form part of his last meal. It arrived as a large cookie with a splodge of cinnamon covered sticky meringue like substance; Cenk explains that the splodge is made from a special foam from a special tree that also aids digestion. Tea in the background is made with oregano.   

               

The cookie crumbled to reveal mucho ground pistachios. It was salty yet sweet, nutty and crumbly. Meant to be savoured slowly,  with or without the foam which I didn't quite take to on account of the cinammon topping, accompanied by more tea of course. Seriously good, simple yet very sophisticated. Other diners were digging into slices of candied pumpkin and we so wanted to have a slice too but the stomach was filled to the brim already.

Never fear, for the next day we went to another place, heartstoppingly beautiful, and another palace, this time drop dead stunning, and we got our greedy forks into pumpkins and other yumminess. But that's a story for another post, now is a good time, I suggest, to scroll back up and drool at the pictures again. 

I love Simit.

               

This is Simit. It's a screwy (is this a naughty word? ) circular bread with sesame crust. It chews like a bagel but is also soft yet nutty. They make a good anytime snack, I should know, because we never could resist them, especially when they are brought out fresh from the oven like this burnished beauty.

               

In Istanbul, and the rest of Turkey too I would imagine, simit is available everywhere, all the time. In bakeries and on the streets. The vendors sell them from dinky carts and some carry them around on trays and baskets, even on their heads.

               

Here is an aerial shot of a simit diving into freshly dripped honey (from their combs) and home-made yoghurt. Yumyum.

And to think that Istanbul almost did not happen. We did flip-flop somewhat over whether to go or not to go. Back in December after we returned to Paris from our blissful Singapore/KL trip, husband and I admitted to ourselves that our old bones and joints are not what they used to be and weren't really that compatible with the damp cold weather, wouldn't it be nice to go somewhere with longer day hours, someplace not too far away that doesn't spend in euros because the euro is so strong now. We considered Marakkesh and Istanbul, both depaysanne as my French teacher puts it, exotic places with occidental and oriental influences. Marakkesh didn't work out in the end- we managed to book the riad and then Air France announced that it would no longer fly to Marakkesh as of 1 April and the other alternative of Air Maroc was just not feasible after reading safety reviews of their planes which seems to be held together by masking tape. Istanbul it was then, and fortunately we were able to book a hotel room just before their high season starts. Before we know it we have spent six unforgettable days there, coming home in time to welcome the first day of spring, a little wet and chilly though it may be.

Istanbul: there's a good reason why it is not popular in winter which we realised when we were sitting in the taxi on the way to our hotel and our nostrils were continuously assailed by the not too pleasant smells of air pollution, diesel and stale fish. Apparently this winter smog disappears in spring. Anyway, the drive was not particularly pretty, not until we pulled into the Sultanahmet area and beheld the centuries-old museums and palaces as well as the crazy traffic, then across Galata bridge and its fishing enthusiasts, into Taksim square and the crowds, the monuments and finally our conveniently located hotel with the cringe-making name of Lush Hip Hotel. For a tiny hotel I was not expecting to be beaten to the check-in desk by a group of chain-smoking, german-speaking fashion types but shit sometimes happen and we had to wait a little longer before we were settled into our small but clean room. With his and hers amenities- girls get tampons and sanitary towels while guys get gold packet condoms. L'occitane toiletries. Duvets. Modern soothing decor. Very helpful staff, but not so helpful when it comes to restaurant recommendations but more on that later. When I opened the window I saw that the hotel is right across from Changa where we had dinner reservations for the very same night; I had booked it because the address was in the neighbourhood but I didn't figure that it was literally across the road, there we go these neat things do happen sometimes. Things started looking up from that point onwards.

               

Our so-called lunch on the flight over consisted of traffic red smoked salmon and vinegared lentils, too horrible to eat, so I had to make do on just a tiny roll which probably accounted for the grouchy mood that lasted until we were able to venture out and encounter Olimpia patisserie a few yards off the hotel.             

               

The range of cakes, pastries and cookies were so wide we hardly knew where to start so we randomly pointed and chose. Little did we know that this would be the pattern of the entire trip, eating all sorts of cakes, pastries and cookies, more than the combined eating of pastries in Paris! Olimpia is only one of seemingly hundreds of such little neighbourhood joints and within two hours of our arrival my empty stomach was filled with one after another of baked treats.

               

We ended up at Olimpia nearly every day come 5 pm when the system gasps for something sweet to be washed down with a glass of cay (tea).

               

Like baklava type pastries of filo sheets layered with pistachios and doused with rose syrups.

               

We went to other places of course, like venerated Sutis along Istitlal Caddessi. Their display of baklavas and sugar-drenched sweets is more jaw-dropping but one can't eat too many baklavas and my attention was riveted by other things.

               

Like their sutlac, or baked rice pudding. Underneath the weird but delicious skin which is a masterpiece in itself being neither too burnt nor underbaked, just nice and delightfully yielding and tear-able, are found plump yet integral grains of rice suspended in a creamy milky pudding soup made enriched with ground rice. Not too sweet as other versions can be. I also ordered an intriguing pudding made with chicken breast meat but the server didn't understand me and I let it go, pretty stupid huh?

               

The copper-molded ceiling of Sutis was what drew me into the cafe in the first place. The rest of their decor is beautiful too, making it an oasis of beauty and class in the crazy street that Istiklal is.

               

We tried the Savoy too, it's been around since 1950 and the upstairs sitting area is popular with young people and families alike.

               

But we always ended up in Olimpia. Its decor is simple, the television screen shows non-stop football action which the locals are crazy over, and nobody understands English but it felt just right to us. One night we couldn't be bothered to go out for dinner so we snacked on more of their baked savoury goods in our room instead.

             

While Istiklal Caddessi is quite tacky the many side streets and corners that branches off it makes for some fun exploring. Besides the patisseries, there are many kebab shops and small joints serving snacky bread pockets of cheese or caramelised onions.

             

These snack shops typically have a huge round pan of what appears to be a macaroni pie. We were given a small sample to taste and it was lovely, the goat cheese adds flavour but does not make it too rich. That's the beauty of  Turkish food, the flavourings never veers into excessive or overwhelming, always preserving the natural tastes and using aromatics just to enhance or complement. The philosophy is similar to Cantonese food which may explain our easy fondness for it.

             

More bread, pizza like with meat toppings. Near the Egyptian Bazaar.

             

Tea is the ubiquitous beverage to drink with breads and cakes and everything else, we certainly drank more than our share. On the streets tea boys deliver tea on specially adapted trays, sometimes covering the tea with a little dish of sugar cubes to protect from the dust. After dinner most locals finish with cups of tea instead of dessert. There is also Turkish coffee too but I find it too bitter and powdery even when sipped very slowly as advised. It'll always be cay for me, and a simit if it's possible!

In the next post we visit the markets and eat foods from other food groups such as meats and fish....         

         

L'Agassin and the Duck of Blood

                  

Istanbul was amazing, we're still basking in the wonderful memories and there are many pictures yet that needs to be downloaded. (For readers who can access the personal Vox blog, do click over and have a look at the video).

In the meantime here are some images from the weekend when C was in town. To start, we spent a marvellous Saturday at the Foire Nationale à la brocante et Aux Jambons at île de Chatou which is a short drive away from Paris. Digging around for that special fleamarket find and indulging in porky products, got to give it to the French for dreaming of it in the first place. There was a stand selling cooked ham-on-the bone and it was yummy. We tried the ham with vegetable plate which piled boiled ham, roasted ham, a bit of the skin (that husband had to especially ask for), grilled vegetables, fried potatoes etc together, all of which were good especially when paired with fresh apple juice. Non-edible purchases included some silverware, a serving dish and a pink velvet-upholstered banquette complete with gilded acorns and tasselled fringes which is sitting prettily in our hallway. The fair has just ended but there's always the next one to look forward to.

                  

For dinner we didn't want to go too far. In my list of to-do restaurants I found L'Agassin in the 7th, a leisurely 15 minute stroll away on 8 rue Malar. T: 01 47 05 18 18. Contemporary decor, a bit noisy. Service was well-intentioned but slightly flustered but the food was generally good. The menu starts from 29/34 euros for 2/3 courses respectively, with quite a few supplements for more expensive dishes. C's chicken in aspic was terrific, I haven't enjoyed cold chicken in such a long time. Other dishes were competent if a bit dull, like a  hearty lamb shank stew and steaks.

As for me, I went out on a limb to order the day's special which was Canard de Sang, or bloody duck (add 15 euros supplement). The dish is better known at the famous La Tour d'Argent, where they have a machine for pressing the duck and each duck comes with its own serial number. I haven't tried the real thing, but the chef at L'Agassin had worked there before, as well as at other luminary restaurants such as Ledoyen etc etc. Since I do not foresee myself shelling out precious euros to eat at the silver tower, this would have to do, and by Jeeves it did so magnificiently. The duck was served in two courses, after the others have had their appetisers. The first course was of the duck fillets, grilled pink yet still a little rare and with a thin slightly crackling skin and its rim of duck fat served on a generous pool of intense blood sauce. Every bite was heaven, and there was a gratifying amount of meat, plenty enough to share with husband and C.

                  

The second part of the dish was of a confit version, fried beautifully and coated with a warm and slightly ascerbic mustard crust, absolutely delicious. This bloody duck now tops my list of the best duck dishes in the city.

My meal ended well with a country-style apple tart that was unassuming in looks yet yummy to eat. I liked C's soupy clementine too but cannot remember what husband had.  All in, it is a good place to go to for a reliably good meal in the neighbourhood.

Malaysia Boleh!

It's Election Day in Malaysia and results show the opposition taking at least five states. It's absolutely fantastic and I didn't see it coming so I am really moved and happy.

I've never voted in my life before, due to various reasons I have always been out of the country during elections but my parents and most of my dad's family in particular have been long-time DAP supporters. I remember my fourth aunt telling us of how my late paternal grandmother would ride in BN buses to the election booths because everyone knows that BN has bigger budgets and therefore more comfortable buses and provide Milo and biscuits whereas DAP buses are never that comfortable. But when she comes out of the booth she will tell my aunt that she voted for the 'rocket' party.

My dad advised us not to be involved in politics, and even my friends would not openly say who they would vote for. This year though, people have been wearing red t-shirts in public to show their DAP allegiance; we have definitely come a long way. For many generations we have accepted the deplorable state of affairs with resignation and hunker down to look after our own. Perhaps after today, with the BN majority hanging in such precarious balance things will improve. I hope the new MPs would work hard for the rakyat and be able to make a difference. Malaysia Boleh!

Le Chic Parisian sandwiches at 46 Avenue

               

There's this small cafe just around the corner from our apartment that I came across one day after getting off the bus and turning left instead of the usual right which would bring me home. It is only open for breakfast till lunch, Mondays to Fridays. They sell sandwiches, some pastas and soups. Nothing unusual in that since such spots exists all over the country. But not all, see, have articles posted on their windows rhapsodizing their club sandwiches. One in particular, called it Le Chic Parisien Sandwich. The ultimate club sandwich in the city, made with the finest ingredients blah blah if you would believe the write-ups. Still it spoke to me because I am a sucker for club sandwiches. It is so 70's and kitschy, and I've come across my fair share made with water-logged ham and bread which sticks to the teeth, yet I feel compelled to try every version that crosses my path. Yes, even the 7 euros takeaway versions in Fauchon, delicious from what I could glean of my four bites.

So I asked GG to meet me at the street corner after my Power Plate session and we toddled off to explore 46 Avenue, so named because it is located at, ta da, 46 Avenue Marceau in the 8th arrondissement. Their sandwiches, mostly in the baguette forms come in a good variety of fillings and run about 2-3 euros higher than average but business is very good, a never-ending stream of customers who order takeaways to eat in their office or the parks a bit farther away.

What about the club sandwiches I asked? The harried counter girl pointed me to a menu. Club sandwiches are made-to-order her other colleague said; it would take at least 15 minutes.  It can only be ordered if we want to eat in the cafe, or 'sur place' as they say it in France. All said in a not-too-encouraging tone. I could sense she was keener to move vegetable cartons than go make something which generates sales but I persisted. There is a vegetarian version (10 euros) and about four or five non-vegetarian ones (13 euros each). We ordered The British and Parme to share. In the meantime we sipped on a decidedly un-chic styrofoam bowl of the daily soup, a pureed vegetable and tomato something which was not too bad in the sense that it tasted fresh and homemade but was not particularly interesting either.

We ate in the upstairs dining area, which is a little mezannine carved out from the ceiling area. There isn't enough space for actual tables and chairs, just counters and stools, but diners can distract themselves by watching The Simpsons with the volume turned completely down. Nobody else ordered the club sandwich the entire 1.5 hours that we stayed. I think the articles are seriously out-dated.

               

The Parme is Italian inspired obviously. It has parma ham, rocket, mozzarella, tomatoes and is accompanied by dressed rocket and crisps. The crisps were nothing special, no handcut potatoes with virgin-gathered salt or anything like that, more like supermarket Lays. I would really prefer a plastic basket of french fries actually. All the other ingredients for the sandwich and salad were fresh and of good-quality. The pain-de-mie or sandwich bread was nicely thin and toasted to desired crumbliness. However, I don't think the idea translated itself well into a club sandwich, it ate like a salad in a sandwich. A bit naff.

Decidedly less naff then is The British. White chicken meat, tomatoes, cheddar cheese, mayonnaise and even Cos lettuce and bacon, the last of which was served on the side; I suppose we could have crumbled it into the sandwich or use it to flavour the crisps. Who knows? This sandwich combination worked better, it was tasty, and the accompanying coleslaw was not bad either.

They serve the sandwiches on thick wooden planks which is many steps above the acrylic trays that is used for ordinary sandwiches. Still, 13 for a chi-chi sandwich, excluding drinks and dessert, is a meal that I do not care to repeat anytime soon.

               

This is more typical of my lunches. At home, usually prepared by GG if I have school in the morning. Leftovers bulked up with salads and rice. Otherwise something quick like grilled chicken. The puffy potato balls come from Picard, they are crisp on the outside and fluffy soft inside, but only if you eat them fresh out of the oven, 20 minutes longer and it turns tough and powdery.

               

Another typical lunch. Leftover pitta pockets with tuna melt, we had opened a can of tuna to make husband's lunch. Apple was a free gift from Le Salon de l'Agriculture. The plate is C's X'mas present to me, the pattern is already faded but the size makes it just nice for small meals and I use it a lot.

And now we really have to take a break from blogging, there are tons of stuff left to do for the weekend and the coming holiday. Bonne weekend à tous!

Les Pâtes Vivantes

             

Updated 21 March 2008 with images.

When I first read in Simon~says* about Les Pâtes Vivantes, a restaurant specialising in handpulled noodles, I wanted to go immediately but we couldn't reach the restaurant by telephone. The next morning, a Sunday, we still couldn't get through the telephone line but we decided to go anyway. To our disappointment it was not open for lunch. While pondering our next move we went over to Rue Cail where I stocked up on murruku, Twisties in 'original' cheese flavour, Indian spices and vegetables. Lunch turned out to be an excellent Korean meal at Restaurant Séoul in the other side of town, at 165 rue  de Javel (15th arr). The owner also runs the Korean grocery store Hana in nearby rue Letellier (15), opposite Odori. 

* Simon says is the blog of Francois Simon, he is a well-respected food critic. His blog is written mainly in French. I love the videos, it is amazing how he gets away with filming his entire meals in so many of the restaurants.

             

             

Anyway I was still determined to eat some handpulled noodles so this afternoon I took the 32 bus over to no 46, rue du fg Montmartre in the 9th arrondissement. Happily the restaurant is operating on all cylinders. The first thing one notices is their steamed up windows, then on the left side of the entrance one can see a Chinese lady physically pulling the noodles. The menu is short- a noodle soup Lanzhou style, a dry version Chajiang style, appetisers like potstickers and cold five-spiced beef, about five dishes that will go with rice e.g. aubergines in fragrant sauce or sauteed pork ribs, and some offhand sweets. I ordered a Chajiang noodle, some potstickers and potatoes sauteed in vinegar.

The tiny restaurant was very busy, they have been opened for only 21 days and because of the exposure from such a well-regarded source such as Simon their business is very good. Today their phoneline was finally connected, they can now be reached at 01 45 23 10 21.

Back to my meal. The potstickers were not great, let's get that out of the way first. The noodles though, were absolutely fabulous, thicker than all the ones I've ever tried, as thick as electrical cords, and pulled in a single, long continuous strand. They were chewy-tender with a snappy bite, just the way I like them. The sauce was delicious too, meaty and mildly spiced, the whole thing is topped off with some scallions, chopped garlic and pickles. At 9 euros a bowl it is also very good value. Also very good was their sauteed potatoes, I ordered some for takeaway, it will make husband happy.

After lunch, Madam Coutin (or Madame Duan according to her Chinese name), the noodle-chef, came over to talk to me. She and her son makes the noodles but she is the expert. It's hard work she admits, requiring precision and muscular strength to get the texture just right. Too much salt and the noodles seize up and break off, too little and it is all flabby. She has hired another noodle-expert who can make all sorts of other amazing pulled noodles but he is waiting for his working papers, but when he starts his job we have more to look forward to as well. Oh, on Sundays, they do open for dinner.

This weekend C comes to town and next week we go for a holiday in Istanbul. The blog will therefore be idle for a while. Cheers!

Update 21 March 2008: Visited a second time with C and husband. Their appetiser of pickled cabbage was a big hit- fresh crunchy vegetables yummified with hot pepper oil and cilantro with a sweet-sour dressing- we ordered a second portion. The soup noodles were compared with dried noodles: the dried version won hands down for flavour and variety of ingredients while the soup was thought to be rather bland.