All this talk of Pad Thai, besides making me hungry, was really a lead-up to the fourth dish on my 10 favorite dishes in Boston.
Believe it or not, on this trip to Thailand, I did sample a few other dishes including my new favorite vegetable “Pok Bong,” morning glory leaves. Crunchy with a slight “creaminess” to it in a light brown sauce: it was the perfect balance for all the noodles I was eating. Upon my return to Boston, friends told me that Brown Sugar Café not only has the most authentic Thai cuisine, but it also serves Pok Bong.
Once in the door, I forgot about vegetables and immediately went for the noodles section of the menu. I quickly discovered the “Country Style” Pad Thai, and all memories of other Thai noodles faded away. The slippery noodles balance the sweet, salty, sour and spicy. They are not dry, but a little saucy. The heat pleasantly builds as you work your way through the plate. Peanuts do not dominate the way so many American versions can. And as someone who does not like nuts (though I manage through most Pad Thais), this is an added bonus. The piece de resistance is the 5-spice tofu used in place of regular tofu. Little bits wiggle through the noodles, adding a depth of sweetness and warmth that make this dish irresistible. Just the right touch of bean sprouts adds texture and brightness. If it were possible to improve, I would use more scallions.
And while you’re there, be sure to try the Brown Sugar Roast Duck and, of course, the Pok Bong (when it’s in season).
The national dish of Thailand… there are as many variations as there are temples in Bangkok. My quest for the perfect pad Thai began after I tried the noodle dish for the first time (about 12 years ago). I lived in the Fenway and there were at least 4 Thai restaurants within a 1 block radius. Within a week, I had tasted them all and picked Bangkok City’s version as my favorite. Though the restaurant’s other dishes were not as good, the pad Thai was far superior and that was all I needed.
The obsession continued as I tried to refine the dish at home. I went on-line and found hundreds of recipes. Though I had never studied Thai cuisine (save a one hour lecture in culinary school), I could decipher the pattern of sweet, salty, sour and hot. I created a little spreadsheet that laid out all the variations. Based on intuition and further research, I decided that fish sauce was more authentic than soy sauce, and ketchup just had no place at all. And so I began testing recipes. My friend Paul Sussman, who owned Daddy-O’s, let me use his prep kitchen during dinner service to test out recipes. At the end of the shift, I served his staff oodles and oodles of noodles. Though they were delighted, I was not pleased with my results – the flavor was always a bit off, and the texture of the noodles was never right either.
After many failed attempts at trying to unlock the secret of good pad Thai, I realized the only solution was to travel to Thailand and take a cooking class. I had been forewarned that Thai pad Thai was very different than American pad Thai.
While vacationing, I ate noodles at most every meal – at street stalls, at restaurants and cafes. Each one a little different – most used the fresh rice noodles, some were spicy, some were not. In the cooking class, the mystery of the cooking technique was revealed. After a brief pan frying, the noodles were softened with the addition of water. The sauce, I was surprised, did in fact have soy and oyster sauces.
When I got home, I experimented a little more with the sauce, and ultimately, omitted the soy sauce altogether, but kept the oyster. I call my version “Pad Thai – Type A” (and I’m sure you can guess why…). This is what I came up with:
Pad Thai – Type A
7 oz. dried rice stick noodles
Sauce 3 tbs. “prepared” tamarind pulp 2 tbs. palm sugar 2 tbs. oyster sauce 2 tbs. fish sauce 1/4 tsp. (or to taste) thai chili powder or cayenne
3 tbs. oil 2 eggs lightly beaten 2 oz. firm tofu, diced, dried well on a paper towel 2 garlic cloves, diced 1 shallot, dice (opt.) 1 tbs. ground preserved turnip 6 oz. shrimp or chicken or combination (opt.) 4 scallions, cut into 2” pieces ¼ cup roasted unsalted peanuts, coarsely ground 1 ½ cup bean sprouts, soaked in cold water 1 lime quarter 1. Soak the dried noodles in hot water for 15 minutes. Drain. 2. To make the sauce: combine tamarind with palm sugar, oyster sauce, chili powder and fish sauce. 3. Heat 2 tbs. oil. Add drained tofu, and cook without stirring for 2-3 minutes, until tofu develops a brown crust on the bottom, and doesn’t stick. Add garlic and shallots, and stir fry until soft. Add shrimp/chicken (opt) and preserved turnip. 4. Add noodles. Stir fry for 1 minute. Add 1/2 cup water to soften noodles. Stir fry until the water has evaporated. Add sauce, scallions and peanuts, and stir fry. 5. Push noodles to the side of the pan, and push that part of the pan off the heat. In the open space, pour in the eggs. Let eggs set for 1 minute before stirring into the noodles 6. Cook until noodles are soft and pliable. Add in sprouts and toss. Garnish with lime and remaining sprouts.
You’ve heard of carnivores, and perhaps even omnivores… but do you know what a locavore is? I can tell you, I am the first two and working towards the third. Yes, I eat meat (carni-) and everything (omni-) and I try to eat local (loca-). With Boston area farmers markets opening up this month for the season, my locavore efforts increase.
The Locavore Movement was founded by “a group of concerned culinary adventurers who are making an effort to eat only foods grown or harvested within a 100 mile radius of San Francisco for an entire month.” This was August 2005. The notion was that local foods are better for the environment, the economy and our health. In just a few years, the challenge has spread across the country, and people are thinking about local foods year-round.
By now, we know why local foods are better for the environment. The statistics are in every paper on a weekly basis: the average American meal travels 1,500 miles from farm to table. To get the food to the table, it must be processed, packaged (think about those 3-packs of tomatoes that are in a plastic webbed container wrapped in yet more plastic), shipped (in refrigerated trucks) and warehoused (in climate controlled storage facilities). And this process of “farm to table” can take up to 3 weeks – each step adding to our “global consumption” of petroleum. By purchasing foods from local farmers, we minimize the environmental impact of each step in this literal food-chain.
Sometimes it’s hard to see how buying local is better for the economy. After all, local produce often costs more than the Californian and even Chilean counterpart. Cambridge Local First compiled a top ten list for buying from locally owned business: this can easily be applied as general reasons for buying local. I will summarize for you now: When you buy locally, the money you spend stays within the local economy. The business owners spend their profits in Massachusetts (or wherever local is for you), and those taxes go towards local infrastructure: roads, schools, police, etcetera. By supporting local farmers, you keep jobs in your local community. When you shop at large chains the profits go to the economy of the large chain’s headquarters.
The health benefits are straightforward. When food travels less, it can stay on the vine longer. The longer it stays on the vine, the more time it has to absorbed essential nutrients from the soil and sun. Further, the minute produce is picked it begins to leach out its nutritional value (this also speaks to why frozen vegetables can sometimes be better than fresh).
Let’s be honest, though… being a locavore in California is much easier than in Massachusetts… And August, the agricultural jackpot, is less oppressive than taking this challenge in February. But when I think about the resources in New England, we are really quite fortunate. We can get seafood from Maine to the Cape even in the depths of winter. King Arthur Flour is based in Vermont. And local meat and dairy suppliers abound from Massachusetts to New Hampshire. The real issue is getting fresh produce in the darker, colder months. From November to April, we’re mostly reliant on farmers farther afield.
If you want to buy local in Massachusetts, the best resource is The Federation of Massachusetts Farmers’ Markets website. The site lists all the area farmers’ markets with dates, times and locations. More importantly, all the vendors are mentioned with links to their websites and/or contact information. Many vendors will also list their product offerings to make menu planning easier. If you can’t get to the markets during the allotted times, you can always visit the farms!
Right now, strawberries, asparagus and salad greens are at their peak. For a recent dinner party, I wanted to serve roasted asparagus (requiring a 450F oven), but was also baking the strawberry rhubarb pie (at 375F). I opted to put the asparagus on the floor of the oven for a searing heat that caramelized the spears without overcooking them. This impromptu method worked so well, it is now my standard method for roasting asparagus.
Strawberry shortcake showcases the sweet berry. This variation puts an Italian spin on the American classic.
Balsamic Glazed Strawberry Short cake
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar 1/2 cup sugar 2 quarts strawberries 1/2 cup heavy cream, whipped to stiff peaks
1. Put sugar in a sauce pan. Add 1/4 cup water. Put over high heat, stir sugar to dissolve. Continue cooking for about 7 minutes or until sugar turns amber brown. Add balsamic vinegar. Continue cooking until liquid is reduced by half. Remove from heat. Just before serving, add strawberries. Serve Biscuits with strawberries and cream.
Biscuits: 1 3/4 cup all purpose flour 1 tsp. salt 1 tbs. sugar 2 tsp. baking powder 1/2 tsp. yeast 4 tbs. butter 2/3 cup milk
1. Dissolve the yeast in milk. Combine dry ingredients. With a knife or fingers, cut in the butter. Mix in milk.
2. Roll out to 1/4” thickness. Cut into desired shapes.
I’ve always wanted a transcendental food experience. My first awareness of the notion was when I was five years old: watching Fred Flintstone devour a pterodactyl drumstick. Every summer, at the Renaissance Festival, I would order the turkey drumstick hoping, praying I would derive such pleasure, even half the pleasure, that Fred seemed to get from that leg. Alas, it never happened. As I got older, I witnessed my father eat sushi. He would close his eyes as he popped Flying Fish Roe with Quail Egg into his mouth, waving us off to be sure we didn’t interrupt his experience.
In 1999, I traveled to Tuscany…. We dined, among other places, at a four-star restaurant in the Old City of Colle d’Val Elsa; the setting was spectacular, atop an ancient village, gazing out to the rolling hills at sunset. The service and décor were flawless. If ever I were to have a transcendental experience, this would be the place. My friends ooh’ed and aah’ed through every bite. Though I enjoyed the meal, I couldn’t muster an authentic moan of delight. I resigned myself to never having this experience.
It was not until I ate at Oishii Boston – 9 years later, that the culinary heavens opened up and shone its light on me.
Specifically, the hamachi-truffle maki sang to me. Hamachi, yellowtail in English, is thick and meaty like tuna, but creamier in texture, and is my favorite fish for sushi. Truffle has no taste, per se, but has an intoxicatingly earthy scent. It keeps drawing me in, sucking my taste-buds hoping to extract more of its aroma. In this maki, the flavors and textures come together harmoniously with smokiness from torched (“bana”) yellowtail and crunchy shrimp tempura rolled inside. The roll is topped with a nibble of caviar to give it a crunchy, salty start that opens the taste-buds for the sensations to come.
The first time I tasted this roll, I immediately ordered a second despite the $25 price tag. On another occasion, as I sat eyes closed focusing inward to the sensations in my mouth, I waved off the server (just like my father waved off the family) when she asked me how everything was mid-bite. My dining companion was so incensed by my behaviour, we never spoke again. The same waitress has served me again, and she has forgiven what we both agree is justifiable behavior. I go back again and again, never tiring of the flavor, having a petit mort every time.
Glorious, hot sun followed by torrential downpours. Welcome to Spring in New England. As I peered out the window yesterday afternoon, streams of rainwater rushed across the fledgling zucchini plants. I wondered if they would be washed away…
Much to my delight, this morning the garden is doing well. The Brandywine tomatoes have already started to flower. This provides great relief since I tempted the weather gods by planting tomatoes in late April, even though New England can have frost as late as Memorial Day. And the brussel sprouts, though nowhere near sprouting, have big full leaves: another good sign. The zucchini plants still seem rooted in their original location
The arugula was in full force last week. I’ve been cutting salads every night, dressed simply with lemon juice and olive oil, or with a few drops of reduced balsamic vinegar. Arugula does not like the heat, though. And at the first sign of summer, like we had on Sunday, the plants start to bolt. The stalks shoot up ready to flower and then go to seed. Try as I might to cut them back and stave off the process, the plants grow leggier every day. The downside is that the plants produce less leaves, the upside is that the salad gets spicier with each warm day. Photo of bolting arugula comes courtesy of Ed Bruske. If you visit his blog and read about a pig matanza and a turkey matanza… these are at my friend Brett's farm (aka Tales from the Farm). Though I was not with Ed during these adventures, I have had the same adventures on the same farm.
The sage continues to proliferate. Even after several whacks – an indulgent meal of pasta with sage brown-butter, several gifts to friends, I still have *gasp* too much. It seems that if I don’t consume it, I befall the same fate as all the other wasted food. Perhaps not as drastic, it seems if I grow it, I should eat it. Or let someone else eat it.
One solution: deep fry the leaves in plain oil until just translucent. After they drain on a paper towel, I season them with salt. The leaves seem thinner and melt in my mouth. They’re addictive like potato chips… light and crispy and salty.
A little on-line research revealed that sage has many medicinal qualities, including: reduces bad breath, reduces perspiration, reduces the symptoms of menopause and premenstrual cramps, increases brain concentration, and reduces blood sugar in people with diabetes. Be cautioned, if you are pregnant, you should not consume this wonder herb in great quantity.
And, of course, burning sage leaves can cleanse a home of negative energy.
My friend asked me the other day, “Why can’t I find a good savory scone?” It’s not even a question of finding a good savory scone; it’s really finding any savory scone. The usual suspects of bakery-cafes – 1369, Diesel, Carberry’s – are all lacking. Rumor has it that Panera sometimes offers savory varieties, but they are not conveniently located, and on principle I try to avoid national chains in favor of supporting the local store owners.
The only true resolution is to make the scones myself.
I thumbed through my favorite (and most trusted) cookbooks for foolproof recipes – Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook
— only to find one or two recipes… for sweet scones. When I lived in San Francisco, I recall having a fabulous scone – in fact my first ever scone – at Greens Restaurant and bakery in Fort Mason. It was a cheddar-scallion scone, and I have never seen it since. Much to my dismay, their cookbook was devoid of any scone recipe, too. A search on Epicurious yielded quite a few, but based on the recipe reviews, none seemed perfect – one was deemed bland, another didn’t have the butter cut into it, and so on… I piece-mealed together the “best practices” of each recipe.
I opted for bacon, cheddar and scallions. Feel free to omit the bacon or the scallions.
Bacon, Cheddar and Scallion Scones 2 cups all purpose flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 2 teaspoons sugar 1 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 1 cup (packed) coarsely grated extra-sharp white cheddar cheese (about 4 ounces) 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard 3 scallions, washed and cut into rings. 3/4 cup chilled whipping cream (or combination of milk and cream) 1 large egg
Preheat oven to 375°F.
Put bacon in a skillet, and cook over medium heat until the fat is rendered and the bacon is crispy. Drain bacon on a paper towel.
Combine flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt in a bowl. Cut in butter using your fingers until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add cheese. Whisk cream, mustard and egg in small bowl, and add the scallions and the bacon. Add cream mixture to flour mixture and gently knead until just combined.
Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface. Gather dough together; divide in half. Pat each half into 6-inch round. Cut each round into 6 wedges. Transfer to ungreased baking sheet, spacing 2 inches apart.
Bake scones until golden and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 20 minutes. Transfer scones to rack and cool at least 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature. They can be made 8 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature. If desired, rewarm in 350°F oven about 5 minutes.)
This past week, like most, involved a trip to my favorite food market: Russo’s. The produce selection is awesome (and I mean this in a traditional sense of the word, not a 15-year old sense) – as an example, they carry at least 8 varieties of eggplant (traditional American, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Indian, white and rosetta) and mushrooms (button, American shiitake, Chinese shiitake, crimini, oyster, king oyster, hedge hogs, portobellas). If you want inspiration, this is the place to roam. They have Asian vegetables: Chinese Broccoli, Rambatans, Banana Flowers, Garlic Chives, Bud Chives, Yellow Chives, along with the usual suspects of bok choy and snow peas. They stock a deli case with 3 kinds of prosciutto crudo, and also pancetta, sopressetto and salami. They manage to cater to the Armenian, Asian, Italian and Jewish populations… giving the market a sense of being an ethnic market, when in fact they are really a green grocer.
I arrive at the market with no clear plan, which is great if one is seeking inspiration, but not as much so if you’re trying to reduce food waste. I tried to bring the two notions together as I thought about the week’s agenda: a Memorial Day get-together with a few friends, many dinners out, but lots of lunches at home. I leave with visions of culinary greatness: a strawberry-rhubarb pie; home-made cannolis with home-made ricotta; minty spring vegetables (English peas, favas and asparagus) to accompany lamb and mango chutney. For my lunches: chicken, avocado and blue cheese – to make cobb salad with the first cutting of arugula from the garden. I buy chicken thighs to brine and smoke… and even though I don’t have a specific plan for them, smoked chicken will never go to waste in this house! And, of course, more bacon and scallions for another batch of scones.
In the process of all this cooking, I discovered mozzarella curd in the freezer that had been there for at least 2 years. I figured – I might as well cook it up, if the cheese is bad, I throw it away, if not – one point in the “no waste” column. Also, I remember the beets I had roasted earlier in the week, and stumble across basil that I froze at the end of last summer’s harvest – add them to a dish, and that’s one more point! The cannoli shells flopped (minus ½ point). I had already made the ricotta, though, so I’m now left with two kinds of cheese.
The mozzarella and ricotta come together with a basil pesto and smoked chicken atop a grilled pizza. This will be the appetizer for the Memorial Day dinner.
Speaking of which, the guest count for the Memorial Day fete swelled slightly so the single mango and two lamb tenders in the freezer will no longer suffice. But I still have two chicken breasts left from my cobb salad lunch. The potatoes I bought a few weeks ago are still firm and unblemished. To stretch the minty-spring vegetables, I add in a fresh arugula salad seasoned simply with olive oil and lemon juice. While I won’t have enough of any dish for everyone to make a meal, I do have enough food to feed everyone. So rather than return to the market to buy more lamb and spring vegetables, I opt for a medley, and hope my friends excuse the lack of focus. I think this is another point in the “no-waste” column.
Grilled “Green” Pizza with Ricotta, Mozzarella and Smoked Chicken Lamb Tenders and Chicken Breasts with Mango Chutney Minty Spring Vegetables and Roasted Beets with Bacon Garlic Roasted Yukon Gold Potatoes with Lemon Zest Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Total: 2 ½ points in the no-waste column.
For the rhubarb pie, I made them in individual ramekins. This has the double benefit of being easier to assemble and creating a more elegant presentation.
Mango Chutney 4 mangoes, peeled and chopped (or 2 cups chopped apples or strawberries) 2 cups sugar, brown or white 1 small onion, diced 2 1/2 cups vinegar, red, white or balsamic 2 in. piece of fresh ginger, peeled and choped 6 garlic cloves, chopped 1 – 2 tsp. chili powder 1 cinnamon stick or 1/2 tsp. cinnamon 2/3 cup raisins
Put sugar and vinegar in sauce pan. Bring to a boil, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Add mangoes and remaining ingredients. Simmer over low heat until chutney is reduced and thick, stirring occasionally, about ½ hour.
After just two weeks of composting, my bin already has a good base. Though this is not necessarily something to be proud of… much of it is the product of food waste – overly ambitious food projects, last minute dinner invitations that mean I cook less at home despite a full fridge, etcetera.
I’ve become increasingly interested in the issue food waste after reading an article in the New York Times last week. It ties in with the issue of reducing our carbon foot-print as well as rising food costs. As I blogged about earlier, and has been well documented in the press lately, food scraps in our trash ends up in land-fills and adds to greenhouse gases in the form of methane. We can reduce this effect by composting, but this does not address the second issue of rising food costs.
Do you recall being admonished (or hearing stories of others) for not cleaning your plate because there are starving children in Ethiopia, China, India, etcetera? The cynic doubts that clearing our plates will reduce world-wide hunger. After all, how will the food from my plate get to those needy families? Another rebuttal is that I have already paid for the food, so I own it and can throw it away if I want. The answer is a matter of supply and demand. If I take more than I need, supply is decreased, and demand is increased thereby raising prices. If I only buy what I will consume, the supply is increased and prices decrease.
Again, like composting, how can the little things I do make a difference? Supermarkets and restaurants are the biggest culprits – with supermarkets throwing away produce with the slightest blemish, lest they tarnish their reputation for the freshest and best produce. And restaurants serving more than any person can eat in a single sitting – leaving the diner to waste the food or bring it home in a doggy bag and hope it makes its way into a subsequent meal. The best I can do is align my beliefs with my actions that demonstrate my concern. This alignment can be viral and incite the bigger players to take action.
I have a confession: I plant seeds and seedlings too densely in my garden.
I could have kept this secret, but in light of my overgrown sage, I had to come clean. I was wondering why Lydia’s two plants behaved so differently—one spindly and thin, the other full and robust. The truth is, I know why my sage is so hearty this year and hadn’t been in years past – each plant had plenty of spreading room.
This does not come easily to me. Each year, I plant lettuce from seed. Maybe it’s just the minuscule size of the seeds and my clumsy hands or my distrust that such a small seed will produce a full head of lettuce. Either way, the little sprouts are so tightly packed now that even the Square Foot Gardening
would shake his head. Similarly, the tomato plants get about 8 inches… they’re just so small when the go in the ground, I can’t seem to visualize how big they’ll become.
Then comes harvest time… and I look at the size of everyone else’s tomatoes, or my friend Brett’s lettuce (who’s using the same seed as me). I’ll admit I have size envy.
This year, I’m fighting every urge to crowd. I’ve already screwed up. On close inspection of my lettuce bed, about 5 sprouts crowd each millimeter hole. Crouched on my hands and knees, armed with office scissors, I first cut back about 50% of the sprouts. I didn’t pull them out as I would have disrupted the roots of the remaining plants. A week later, I went back, cutting out everything except 1 plant every 1/2” – 1”. From the second trimming, I yielded a gallon of baby arugula. Miraculously, the arugula is still growing strong, and I’ve managed to have a salad every day this week. Phew, I think it’s going to be okay.
My other vegetable bed is huge by urban standards, about 15’ by 4’. Nonetheless, I only planted for 5 tomatoes, giving 2 feet between each plant. This left me room so that I could also plant celery, eggplant, cauliflower and brussel sprouts, each with appropriate spacing.
Up until this year, my sage plants have hobbled through the seasons. Each of the 4 plants would grow anemically, with just enough leaves each week to add sparkle to maybe one dish. Every once in a while, I’d be cooking an especially sage-y meal and I would decapitate a plant. If patience prevailed and the weather gods favored me, the plant would grow back. Otherwise, I’d buy another plant and try again the next year.
We’re only a few weeks into spring, and already my sage plants have grown so large they’ve begun to flower. I pruned the bushes, donating the leaves to a friend’s kitchen. Still, if I don’t do something quick they may shade the celery plants which are also vying for sun. <
Sage is a tricky herb – added fresh to a dish, a little (just a tablespoon fresh chopped) goes a long way. But if you fry the leaves and sprinkle with a little salt, they entice you like potato chips.
Here's one of my favorite dishes that requires copious amounts of sage…
Pasta with Fried Sage and Parmesan
1 pound pasta of choice 1 bunch sage, leaves picked 5 cloves garlic, sliced 1/4 cup parmesan 2 – 4 tbs. butter (depending on taste) 1/2 cup chicken broth or cream salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste
1. Cook pasta according to package instructions.
2. Meanwhile, melt butter over medium high heat in a sauté pan. Add sage leaves. Cook until they begin to look translucent. Add garlic slices. Continue cooking until garlic is lightly browned. Remove from heat
3. When pasta is done, drain. Toss with sage and butter mixture. Add chicken stock and parmesan. Stir to coat pasta. Season to taste with salt, pepper and lemon juice.
Chicken Saltimbocca
4 chicken breast cutlets 1 ball fresh mozzarella, sliced 4 slice proscuitto 1 bunch sage, leaves picked 3 cloves garlic, sliced. 3 tbs. plain oil 1 shallot, diced 1/2 cup sherry 2 tbs. butter (or more to taste) salt and pepper to taste
1. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in sauté pan. Add sage leaves. Fry for 2 minutes, or until they begin to get crispy. Add garlic, and continue frying for 1 minute or until garlic begins to turn brown. Remove from heat, and season with salt and pepper.
2. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Over the center of each chicken breast, layer mozzarella, prosciutto and 1/8 of sage-garlic mixture. Fold over to seal in filling.
3. Heat large sauté pan over high heat. Add remaining oil. Sauté chicken for 5 minutes on each side, or until golden brown on outside, and cooked through (or you can bake chicken at 350 for 10 minutes).
4. When chicken is finished cooking, keep warm in oven. Add shallots and sherry to chicken pan. Bring wine to a boil over high heat. Remove from heat and swirl in whole butter. Season pan juices to taste with salt, pepper and lemon juice.
5. Slice chicken into medallions, and serve with pan juices. Garnish with remaining fried sage and garlic.
noodles section of the menu. I quickly discovered the “Country Style” Pad Thai, and all memories of other Thai noodles faded away. The slippery noodles balance the sweet, salty, sour and spicy. They are not dry, but a little saucy. The heat pleasantly builds as you work your way through the plate. Peanuts do not dominate the way so many American versions can. And as someone who does not like nuts (though I manage through most Pad Thais), this is an added bonus. The piece de resistance is the 5-spice tofu used in place of regular tofu. Little bits wiggle through the noodles, adding a depth of sweetness and warmth that make this dish irresistible. Just the right touch of bean sprouts adds texture and brightness. If it were possible to improve, I would use more scallions.
