iFlipForFood

Another shameful secret comes out here, folks - I've never had a bánh mì. I'll give you a moment to digest (see what I did there?!) that information. I've heard so many wax rhapsodic on this French-influenced Vietnamese staple, and have seen upscale versions offered at nice restaurants across the country, yet I've never actually eaten one. Because they are rock star foodie adventurers, when D & J heard this shocking disclosure on Saturday, they insisted on taking me to Bánh Mì DC Sandwich in Falls Chuch, despite our still full stomachs from lunch at China Star.

Bánh Mì DC Sandwich is half Vietnamese deli, half Asian food store. I desperately need one of these in my neighborhood. I wanted to leave with a couple of bags of foodstuffs, but I was about to Metro it to Clarendon to hang out at Northside Social for a few before meeting with friends for a third food outing. So I attempted to close my eyes to all the wonders for sale around me and focus on the massive menu of bánh mì variations offered.

J vouched for the vast majority of the menu items, but I decided to keep it simple for my first go at a new food, going with the grilled pork bánh mì. I didn't tear into it right away, but waited until I had wriggled my lunch into a more accommodating place in my stomach and had perched on a bench in Clarendon before trying my sandwich.

In a word, the sandwich was magnificent. I don't know whether to be grateful or angry that J & D introduced me to this wonder, because it's all I've craved for lunch for the past week. The perfectly crusty bagette was slightly hollowed out (leaving only my favorite part of the bread!) to make room for the delightfully tangy and crunchy pickled carrots, daikon, bell peppers and cucumber, the fresh cilantro, and the slightly sweet and smokey grilled pork. I had meant to take only a few bites and save the rest for later, but I annihilated my bánh mì. If I had a car, I'd be heading out to Bánh Mì DC Sandwich every weekend. Somebody PLEASE tell me you can get a comparable bánh mì in the District...

Last Saturday, the cards fell in place for me to have a ridiculously Asian-food packed Virginia weekend with friends. For my first stop, I met up at China Star with Twitter friends @handpecked (D) and @PensFan2166 (J), who clued me in to this purveyor of Szechuan food in Fairfax after my raves over the ma la menu at Great Wall. Normally I wouldn't stray this far away out of my zombie-apocalypse emergency plan safety zone, but I felt I was in good hands with D & J, who may just know even more about zombie-killin' than I do (although they did sign off on my plan to arm myself with samurai swords - after all, as zombie expert Max Brooks advised, "Blades don't need reloading").

The one-room dining area had pretty bare bones decor with just a few ethnic touches, which is about what I would expect from a strip mall establishment.  The service was no-nonsense and efficient.

China Star offers both a menu of more common Chinese food (think General Tso's Chicken, Beef with Broccoli, Moo Shu Pork, etc.) and a menu of authentic Szechuan food. For the most part, we stuck to the latter. Because he is a man after my own heart,  J got a cold appetizer of sliced beef and beef tripe (below). I think it would have tasted even better hot, but it was still good, with a lot of flavor, just the slightest bit of spice and a tiny bit of the numbness that comes from eating Szechuan (Sichuan) peppercorns.

I got the ma la diced rabbit (below), again, served cold, and again with a little bit of heat and numbing factor. I liked this dish, but the meat was a little gamey and it was a bit difficult to eat - rabbit has little bones with little meat on them, so eating it can be somewhat indelicate. Luckily, my eating companions didn't seem to be too put off by me picking around my food.

D got the cold salty duck (below), which was a little unsettling, appearance-wise, but nice. The meat was really juicy and well-seasoned (surprisingly not overly salty).

While we all dug into the entrees family-style, we each made our own selection for the table. J decided to pass up the spice and went with the cashew chicken (below) off the regular menu, a very competently executed take on a classic, and not as greasy as you typically find at the typical Americanized Chinese restaurant.

D and I, being the hardcore women that we are (J eventually caved and had a few bites), went straight for the good stuff, the ma po bean curd (below). It was pretty glorious, with silky tofu that melted in my mouth, and a spicy, garlicky sauce that I used to drown my rice. It didn't have quite the numbing factor that the Great Wall version does, but it does have a fair amount of heat, and 10 pounds of flavor in a 5-pound bag. It was by far my favorite dish of the meal.

D also ordered the shredded pork with bitter melon, a.k.a. bitter cucumber (below). The greens had a very interesting flavor, obviously bitter. At first, I wasn't sure I liked it, but with each successive bite, wanted more. I really liked it in a complete bite with the other components of the dish, as the juiciness of the pork and the spice in from the red chilis offset the bitterness. On top of its strangely addictive taste, medicinally, bitter melon is a powerhouse (as D put it, it's like the Chuck Norris of fruit), said to aid in digestion, as well as help to prevent/counteract Type II diabetes and treat malaria.

I had definitely started off my Saturday food adventure on a good foot - the food was all very tasty (I've been dreaming about that ma po bean curd), and the company was even better. Fellow food lovers D & J took turns making me laugh and terrifying me with talk of zombies and furry conventions in Pittsburgh (and the horrific possibility of a combination of the two). After taking our sweet time over the mounds of tastiness we had ordered, we packed it up and headed to my second food adventure of the day...

I love discovering new places with my friends. Last weekend, I met with some of my nearest and dearest (including Annie and Ross, who are enthusiastic eating adventure companions, and the famed Calypso) at Meridian Pint in Columbia Heights to celebrate the birthday of one of my favorite Washingtonians, my good friend Dan. Only open for about 2 months, Meridian Pint was "founded on the premise of environmental sustainability," with a focus on American craft beers. The establishment's commitment to the environment seems to be more than just lip service, as its energy source comes from wind mill farms in the way of green energy credits. Meridian Pint also offers vegan food and drink options.

The interior is interesting, with an industrial theme - exposed pipe, brick walls,  heavy wood, tables inlaid with blueprints, and cogs and gears everywhere. The website explains that much of the equipment, furniture, construction materials and design elements have been recycled or reclaimed. I spent a little time with Calypso in the basement level bar, which sports a couple of pool tables, a wide open space,  two booths at which patrons can pour their own beers, and a very casual atmosphere, before heading upstairs to meet with my friends for dinner in the dining area (below). The dining area is lit mostly by natural light streaming through the big panel windows; this meant that as it got later, the dining area got dimmer and dimmer until it became almost too dark to see down to the end of the table to where the birthday boy was seated.

It took some time for our group of 10 to get settled and order, so we started out with an order of fries with rarebit sauce (cheese, beer, and mustard) for the table. The fries were fine, nothing special, but the sauce was really tasty - the slight bitterness from the beer paired well with the tanginess of the mustard and the oh-so-yummy cheesiness.

In fact, the sauce was so good that we used it to dip our order of onion rings (below). Annie and I thought that they were some of the best rings we'd ever had, thick-cut, meaty with a perfect golden and crispy exterior. Ross thought there was a little too much batter, but still liked them. We loved them with the rarebit sauce, but they were served with a horseradish aioli, which was also great.

Annie and Ross opted for the cauliflower curry soup special, served warm (below). While Ross was a little unsettled by the temperature, they both appreciated the subtleness of the curry and really enjoyed it. Ross, who is a fairly particular eater, was impressed at our friendly and knowledgable server's efforts to accommodate his requests (no cilantro or yogurt on top), and she made sure to ask whether he was allergic to these ingredients. In fact, we were all pretty impressed with the way she deftly managed our big group.

I got an order of deviled eggs (below), which were okay, but lacked the textural contrast and bite that I've loved with more creative versions of this classic.

Ross got the pulled beef short rib sandwich (below), which he liked but didn't think was amazingly great - the meat could have been more tender, which is what I generally expect from a pulled meat dish.

I also opted for the short ribs, albeit in entree form. The meat was braised in porter, and served with macaroni and cheese and wilted spinach (below). The beer braise brought out a nice, rich and deep flavor in the meat, although I agreed with Ross that it was not as tender as I would have liked. The sides, however, had little to recommend them - both were in dire need of seasoning.

Annie got the double-cut brined pork chop with a rhubarb hard-cider sauce, served with roasted sweet potatoes and braised kale (below). The server warned us that it was a big portion, but we were not prepared for the MONSTER cut that soon arrived. If you're a hungry bug, this is the dish for you. The pork was very nice, having benefitted greatly from the brining, juicy and well-seasoned. The sweet potato wedges were okay, but the kale suffered the same defect as my sides - bland and a little bitter.

I think Meridian Pint has what it takes to be a neighborhood fixture for years to come - the food needs some work (mostly seasoning-wise), but they've got time, and I really like the fun atmosphere, great service, and sense of social responsibility that the newbie brings to the table. And any place that puts up with our merry band of miscreants is fine by me.

Great food comes in all shapes, sizes and grease-gradients. While I'm still a sucker for foie gras and a nice pinot noir, I still can't resist getting dirty and wrapping my hands around a greasy cheesesteak. For me, it's the ultimate comfort food and I can't think of another cuisine that actually tastes better the worse it looks. When a cheesesteak is frothing - almost seemingly vomiting - cheese and onions out of its sloppy, wet mouth... well... I know I'm in for a special culinary treat. This recent Onion Headline seems to share the same sentiment. 

For me, the Philadelphia cheese steak is the perfect microcosm of the city itself. It's dirty, in-your-face, and maybe even a little uncivilized, but I'll be damned if it isn't loaded with tons of character (and cheeze whiz!). Only in a place notorious for booing Santa Clause could a sandwich so unrefined be the boast of the city. Say what you may about the blue-collar folk of Philadelphia, they're not afraid to get their hands a little messy, and without 'em, we wouldn't be having debates about chopped or sliced, whiz or provolone.

On our last excursion to the city of brotherly love, we ambitiously downed world famous cheesesteaks from Pat's, Geno's and Tony Luke's. This time around, I tracked down what's commonly received as the best cheesesteak in town, and trekked the forty-five minute drive down the Atlantic City Expressway to find the best offerings from the Jersey Shore. 

John's Roast Pork  

Content not to compete in the volume wars with the big dogs (Pat's, Geno's, Jim's, etc.) John's is open literally a few hours every day for a slammed lunchtime rush. At 2:30 every weekday, they shut down the grills and shutter up the windows, and you won't find the doors open at all on the weekends. Not only does John's make a roast pork sandwich so delicious that pigs dream of cannibalizing themselves (photo above, right), they're particularly known for their cheesesteaks- a sandwich so good that WIP recently named it the best cheesesteak in the city, and Philadelphia Inquirer food critic Craig LaBan topped his list of the best 22 cheesesteaks in the city with it. 

To acquire this supposed champion, I tried to beat the Friday lunch rush and failed miserably. Twenty minutes after the doors had opened, there was already a line forming out the front door. Once inside, I tried to figure out the method behind the mayhem. What initially seemed like a free-for-all actually was a fairly efficient system, but with such a small grill, the bottom line was if you wanted a cheesesteak, you were gonna wait. Every ten or fifteen minutes, they'd take several orders for steaks, grill them up, move the customers out, and move on to the next batch.

Sent in with explicit instructions to order cheesesteaks for every member in my family (a hungry group of several people eagerly awaiting lunch an hour away at the beach) I quickly started to realize I should've phoned my order in ahead of time. As I waited, an anxiety took over. Was I really going to order nine cheesesteaks and force the unruly mob behind me (a mob that actively showed that their lack of patience matched their lack of personal hygiene) to wait an extra fifteen minutes on account of me?

Then I started to wonder if the loud-mouthed locals behind me were really my biggest concern. On the wall at John's is a signed photograph of the Soup Nazi, which got me starting to wander, perhaps it wasn't just the guys behind me I should be worried about, perhaps it was the guys behind the counter. As I got to the front of the line, with the words 'No Cheesesteaks for you!' echoing through my brain, I talked myself down to just three cheesesteaks and then braced myself for rejection. The guys behind the counter didn't even blink. There was no clamoring from the peanut gallery. As they threw the beef onto the grill, I kicked myself for not asking for a couple more. 

Sometimes I wonder if it's the process and anticipation that makes food taste better. Where there's a line, there's people who will stand in it, and when standing in line we tend to build things up in our minds, if for nothing else, our own validation. After battling the line for half an hour (including the guys behind me who threatened to kick somebody's ass who accidentally stepped out of line and back in) I couldn't help but wonder if the daunting task of surviving John's line would perhaps kindly flavor the cheesesteaks in my subconscious. 

Whatever the case, I loved my cheesesteak (above), which is served with the same caliber of quality meats I've come to expect from any credible Philly cheesesteak institution. What distinguishes it from the rest is its superb sesame roll from Carangi's, a warm loaf of South Philly's finest. Certainly, comparable to Philly's other top contenders, I think any eater would be hard-pressed to find anything notably better. 

The Roast Pork (above) required no additional wait, so I grabbed a few of John's trademarks for the road as well.  

White House Sub Shop

Who knew that Atlantic City had a White House to call it's own? This presidential estate may not be home to the Obama family, but its subs and cheesesteaks are good enough to have acquired an even more impressive rolodex of celebrity clientele. 

There isn't a square inch of wall space that isn't plastered with some celebrity's signed picture, but the picture below is the only endorsement the restaurant really needs.

We only waited for a few minutes for them to have a table ready. The White House's service style is more of a sit-down restaurant than the assembly lines I'd grown accustomed to in Philadelphia. Our server came by with a handful of waters as she took our order. 

The cheesesteaks (below) were a little different than I'd grown accustomed to as well. The roll had a different consistency than many of its Philadelphia cousins, and I felt like the meat was a little under-represented. While it's a slightly different interpretation, the White House cheese steak is proof that good cheese steaks do exist outside of Philly... but not that far outside of Philly.

The great thing about the bread is that it's usually only a few hours removed from the oven. White House pulls its Italian loafs straight from the Formica Brothers Italian Bakery across the street and makes all of its sandwiches on the fresh bread. You can try their most heralded sandwich, the White House Special or go for any combination of cold cut meats, like the mouth-watering half Turkey submarine (below).

So, I've crossed off a few more cheesesteak spots off my list, but there are so many left to try. Hopefully the future allows a few more Philadelphia eating adventures, but Angela insists that next time we go back, we're actually going to sample some of the amazing, non-cheesesteak options that Philadelphia has to offer. Stay tuned...