Sweet and Sour in Boston

People are always amazed that I was born and raised in Oklahoma, that it's highly unlikely that a person of Vietnamese descent could be raised where the Midwest meets the Southwest. But, there are actually tons of people of Vietnamese descent in Oklahoma City, enough to have a Little Saigon area, full of Vietnamese shops, restaurants and grocery stores.

Last year, there was a great article in the NYTIMES about this very such fact, and the great food that is found there:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/04/travel/04frugalweb-1.html

I always took Vietnamese food for granted growing up. My mom was always cooking it for us, and I was always sick of eating rice every freaking day. How I longed for the exotic food that the other kids in the neighborhood were eating (except the neighbors to our left...they were Vietnamese too and were eating the same rice dishes): the tacos, the spaghetti, the meat loaf. I remember being in 6th grade, and waiting around in the school cafeteria for school to start, I was asked by a classmate what I had for breakfast. My mom, who was already gone for work, had left a big pot of Chao Ga (Vietnamese rice porridge, the Chinese call it Congee) for us. When I started to describe to this young, white, all-American girl what I had for breakfast, she just looked at me like I was some sort of psycho. (This was also the elementary school where I got called into the principal's office because I was reading a Dungeons and Dragons book and they were afraid I was teaching witchcraft to all the nice Christian kids...true story.) So this experience and countless others like it made me feel out of place, and for a kid that had issues trying to fit in for most if his teenage years up until college, this just added to my anti-Vietnamese feelings. (It wasn't just the food, I hated going to Vietnamese mass during Christmas, and I hated being yelled at by my parents in a language I didn't understand...actually, that wasn't a bad thing.)

When I moved to Seattle for college, I was amazed that along the stretch called the "Ave" (University Ave) in the University District, among all the homeless and street kids (Ave Rats we called them) there were 4 or 5 different pho shops. These came as a great comfort on rainy afternoon days, and this being Seattle these days were often. Suddenly I was no longer not wanting Vietnamese food for dinner, but was actively searching it out. Going for Pho became my staple 1st date. (Seeing as none of these 1st dates amounted to much, I probably should have had a better dating strategy.) The best part: my college buddies weren't afraid or seemed to think of me differently because of the food I ate...in fact, they wished they could have had this food growing up. Rob, tall white guy from the Portland area, told me once how he loved going to get pho with someone who never had it before, to see how they would eat it. And he was right, I never noticed how others ate pho, how it was a different eating experience for everybody. (Jason would put a little noodle, a piece of meat, a bean sprout or two into his spoon then he would add a touch of sriracha and hoisin sauce and so each bite had the same amount of seasoning and flavor. Vince would add so much sriracha that his beef broth would turn into a sea of blood.) This was when I realized how badass and amazing the cuisine from my parent's homeland actually is, how food that is so simple can be so good. Every summer vacation, even though my mom would offer to cook tacos or spaghetti (self-taught because of my constant complaining as a child) I would ask her to make my favorite rice dishes or her pho or her banh xeo (Vietnamese fried crepe dish). I quit complaining about what we were eating for dinner, and actually asked my mom for directions on how to make these dishes so that I can cook it while I'm at school.

Then in 2001, I got to visit Vietnam. As a graduation gift from my parents, my sister Suzy and I went to Vietnam to see my parent’s homeland. While not every part of the trip was enlightening or even fun (too much dealing with money-grubbing relatives that I would never talk to ever again in my life) I got a whole new appreciation for my parents and everything about them. Mainly, I got to eat a whole lot of good food for pennies! The best bowl of beef pho I’ve ever had was at the garage of a man outside of Saigon who, while serving pho, was also giving haircuts as well as washing motorbikes. An all in one shop so to speak. The best bowl of pho ga (chicken) I had was after mass in Hanoi, upstairs in a restaurant that my dad said he went to growing up. Then there was the banh xeo place in Saigon that had customers driving right through the dining area to park their motorbikes in the back, while little lizards would jump onto the table to try to get a bite. Needless to say, I’ve never had banh xeo as good again. (I could go on and on about how great the food is, but I won’t. Just watch any Bourdain episode, either A Cook’s Tour or No Reservations, and watch at how much he respects and loves the Vietnamese food.)

So now I no longer am ashamed of the food my parent’s forced onto me as a child. Thanks to the ever changing food culture in America, where different ethnicities are showcasing their homeland’s food, it’s not as strange now for people to eat sushi or other Asian food that is not Chinese. (I could write a whole blog about what is considered Chinese food in the states…and I probably will…as my brother Tino described it in one of his posts, the Chinese food you eat here in the great USA is nothing like the food they eat in China.) And while people may not agree with me for eating hot noodles in the morning for breakfast (there’s always some comment at work whenever I’m eating Nong Shim instant noodles at 7:30AM in front of my computer), they aren’t judging me for it, nor should I judge them for eating hot oatmeal with raisins (EW!!!...you white people and your strange food...).

So it's a lovely Saturday in Boston. The weather cannot be any better, low 80's with a slight breeze. Abby's parents came into town today to visit with us and see the new condo. They arrived around 10:00AM and I just finished cooking breakfast. Spicy homefries, scrambled eggs with cheese and peppers, and some crispy bacon. A very good hearty breakfast to fill up for a day full of walking.

Once Abby's brother showed up, we headed out on a nice walk. We went down Washington Street, choosing not to jump onto the Crack Taxi (Silver Line) pointing out all the great restaurants, bars and shops that are in our neighborhood to Abby's family. Her brother will actually be moving into the neighborhood in September and he's excited about being in the city.

After walking from our condo all the way through Chinatown, Downtown Crossing and finally getting to Faneuil Hall, we were all ready for a nice tasty beverage. We ducked down the stairs of Black Horse Tavern, a nice little bar in the heart of Faneuil Hall that is normally empty of tourists. Well, even with the normal urine smell and sticky floors, there were a handful of tourists having lunch. Very strange...this is not the type of place I would find myself into if I was walking around Boston for the first time. I mean, North End is right there with all the great restaurants. But, then again, I suggested this place for us knowing that the beers are nice and cold and we could have a conversation. We didn't linger too long, after a couple of Black and Tans we headed out and towards the North End. Abby's brother was hungry for a snack, and I knew the best place for it: Ernesto's.

Ernesto's, to me, is the best pizza joint in all of Boston. People will scream about Upper Crust and Bertuccis, but none of them compare to the large slices of Ernesto's. For anyone wanting to come here, remember that a slice of pizza is 1/4th of a whole pizza. It's sliced down the middle and is essentially two huge slices. Starting at $3.50 for a one topping pizza, it might be one of the best steals in Boston. Abby and I split a slice, as did her parents. Her brother, who was really hungry, got one to himself. I got the sausage and pepperoni and it was toasty and smoking hot out of the oven with just the right about of grease on top. Absolutely fabulous!

While we were finishing our pizza break, Abby's cousin Annie showed up to say hi. We walked down Salem to see the Old North Church and then cut across to get to Hanover St, which was partially shut down for the St. Josephs' Festival. There were a lot of little booths of food and games. I would have snacked there if I had known about this, but I think we made the right choice with Ernesto's. After checking out the festival, we headed out of North End towards the Financial District for another drink. We make a stop to The Times bar, which has a great outdoor patio. This is a relatively new bar to me, only discovered a couple of months ago. I gotta say...I like it. While we were sitting down and telling Abby's parents that we like this bar, they ask us "Are there any bars in this town you don't like?" Which is a pretty valid question, considering all day we were pointing out all our favorite watering holes and restaurants as we walked through the city. (This is a whole other blog topic, one that will come soon in a few days. A list of our favorites and least favorite places throughout Boston.)

Finally, we walked through the financial district, through downtown crossing and then into the Commons. After a quick stroll through the park, we headed to our dinner spot: Intermission Tavern.

Located on Tremont Street, opposite of the 7-11, lies Intermission Tavern. A bar that has great bartenders and waitstaff and surprisingly really, really good bar food. I mean, this is not a bar trying to make ultra-high end bar food, with saffron and foie gras burgers...no this is just a bar that takes bar food and does it really, really well. Juicy thick burgers, homemade potato chips, and tasty mac and cheese. Nothing pretentious at all. We start by ordering a drink that I'd like to take credit for inventing a couple of years ago at the Intermission Tavern, but I know I didn't. They have a few infused vodkas behind the bar, normally a pineapple, strawberry and kiwi, and mango, just to name a few. Today I got the pineapple vodka with orange juice and cranberry juice. Yes I know this is an already known drink for generations, but I still like to think I invented it with the infused vodkas. For dinner, Abby and her mom got burgers, and all the men got the Guinness battered fish and chips. I gotta say, I was slightly disappointed with the fish and chips. It was cooked perfectly, with the fish flaking at the touch, but the batter and the fish were a little bland. Maybe the seasonings were just forgotten during the battering process...I don't know. The fries were not greasy at all and very crispy. Abby got the potato chips with her burger and they were cooked perfectly. However, I remember the Intermission putting a ranch powder all over the chips, but not today. We have noticed that in the past, it all depends on who's cooking in the slightly open kitchen. We didn't recognize the crew working inside the hot kitchen today, so maybe that lead to the slight imperfections in our meal. Even so, we'll still come back and enjoy the infused vodkas and eat the good food.

I give Intermission Tavern a 4 out of 5.