A fine example of a modern spanish recipe that takes typical and traditional ingredients – in this particular case, lots of garlic and sherry – and combines them in a way that is so impressive the dish will soon enter your repertoire of everyday meals.
INGREDIENTS
1 kg (2 lb 4 oz) boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tablespoon sweet paprika (pimentón)
2 tablespoons olive oil
8 garlic cloves, unpeeled
60 ml (2 fl oz – 1/4 cup) fino sherry
125 ml (4 fl oz – 1/2 cup) chicken stock
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
DIRECTIONS
Trim any excess fat from the chicken and cut the thighs into thirds.
Combine the paprika with some salt and pepper in a bowl, add the chicken and toss to coat.
Heat half the oil in a large frying pan over high heat and cook the garlic cloves for 1-2 minutes, or until brown. Remove from the pan.
Cook the chicken in batches for 5 minutes, or until brown all over.
Return all the chicken to the pan, add the sherry, boil for 30 seconds, then add the stock and bay leaf. Reduce the heat and simmer covered, over low heat for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, squeeze the garlic pulp from their skins and pound with the parsley into a paste using a mortar and pestle or a small bowl and the back of a spoon.
Stir garlic/parsley mixture into the chicken, then cover and cook for 10 minutes, or until tender. Serve hot.
As I was strolling along Kavanaugh Boulevard through the Heights this past weekend, I happened to notice something unusual in the space of a promising-sounding restaurant: an OPEN sign beckoning from the front window. I’d heard no formal announcements of the opening of That Ramen Place other than whispers of “soon”; the place has a Facebook page with zero activity and the local food blogs haven’t jumped on it yet, so this OPEN sign came as something of a surprise.
Today, with room in my stomach and curiosity in my brain, I wandered in to give That Ramen Place a try. The decor sure wasn’t much (more on that in a bit), so it was going to have to get by on the strength of its food.
Pleased to say, I think it’s going to do just fine.
UPDATE JANUARY 24, 2020: Well, that prediction didn’t exactly work out, did it? That Ramen Place is now gone for good.
I stand by my review of the ramen. I must have eaten there a dozen times since That Ramen Place opened up, and the soup, while not exactly consistent, was always top-notch. The pork tonkotsu broth was a creamy delight. The pork belly was to die for. And I miss it.
So what went wrong?
As far as I can judge, poor ownership and management killed this promising little place.
The first hint of trouble was consistency. Sometimes the Underbelly bowl had the egg in it, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes you could get it with the tonkotsu broth, sometimes it was shia only.
Next clue was the staff turnover. In the dozen times I ate at TRP, I only saw the same serving and prep team twice. Twice. If people are signing on to work and then quitting the next week, your work environment sucks.
About three months in, I overheard a server (who made it maybe all of a month) complaining that the ownership was introducing new menu items before staff could implement them, that the ramen was changing too frequently, and that one of the owners “only cares about money”. Yikes.
The last time I tried to eat at That Ramen Place was after this year’s Arkansas Comic-Con. Picture, if you will, a group of six hungry teenagers obsessed with anime and ramen, entering a ramen noodle joint. Picture, if you will, the single employee telling them that she was the only one on shift and probably couldn’t serve all of them without taking forever. (This was around 5:45 on a Saturday. Seriously? This is one of the busiest dining nights of the week.) Picture, if you will, a single employee a few doors down at Poke Hula who was able to feed every single one of them in mere minutes.
I feel sad that this experiment failed, but I’m also angry. This should have been a win-win for the Heights. Someone let his or her ego get in the way of good restaurant management, and we all lost out in the process.
Well. This is an experience!
I won’t lie, walking in was a bit … weird. The place was empty save for one lone diner scanning a menu at one of the side tables. No indication of whether I’m supposed to “Please Seat Yourself”, or if I’m supposed to “Please Wait To Be Seated”. With no staff in sight I wandered up to the food prep / cashier counter at the back and out popped the woman whom I assume is the proprietor. She greeted me warmly (as she did with everyone who came in) and handed me the menu. I opted to sit at the counter and get a first-hand look.
The menu at That Ramen Place is short and it is simple, which is a plus in my opinion. That Ramen Place gives you two options for your meat-based broth: tonkotsu, which is creamy and pork-based; and shio, typically made from sea salt and soy. Today I opted for the Underbelly Bowl with the Shio broth, and I ordered a kimchi salad to go along with it. The Woman In Charge apologized for any delay, but honestly there was no unreasonable wait for my meal, nor did I notice other diners getting impatient. All told That Ramen Place scored perfectly fine on service.
If you like kimchi, you’ll like this.
Time to eat! Don’t let this disappointing photo fool ya; this was nice-looking in person. The kimchi salad was a delight, with crunchy, sweet cabbage and crisp cucumber coated in a wonderful kimchi paste. The paste wasn’t as strong or as spicy as I’ve had in the past, but it had an agreeable tang that was well-balanced. As the weather gets warmer, I predict this side dish will be quite welcome for Heights denizens.
Thank you for this wonderful bowl of delight. R’amen!
The Ramen was excellent, which one would hope given that’s why I was there. It was very low-frills bowl; nothing but broth, noodles, pork, green onion, a few shreds of lettuce, and sliced bamboo.
The shio broth was nicely salty, delicious, and fresh-tasting. Every spoonful of this broth felt like an explosion of flavor. I couldn’t stop saying “Mmm!” the entire time.
The noodles were more tender than I expected. For me this is a plus — I’m one of those who likes to cook my 3-minute Ramen package for 5 or 6 minutes. And some of the noodles were clumped together in a way that makes me think there might be some kinks to work out in the prep. But they sure were good, and absorbent of that exquisite broth.
The pork belly was absolutely melt-in-my mouth stellar. I like it tender and fatty, and suffice it to say, I was pleased.
My biggest surprise was the strips of bamboo, which I mistook for large-ish mushrooms of some kind. The strips had been subject to a seasoned marinade, which gave them a texture very much like a mushroom. They were pleasantly sweet, and a great addition to the bowl.
Scattered along the counter were small plastic jars of two kinds of condiments. One was a crunchy, flavorful pickled ginger, while the other was a strongly spicy paste of some kind. It reminded me a bit of horseradish. I didn’t ask what was in it, but I can still feel a slight sting on my tongue as I write this. I didn’t put either in my ramen bowl, as I felt it stood proudly on its own without needing any adjustment, but I’m glad I tried them on the side so I know what’s when next time I go.
Oh yes, there will definitely be a next time. That Ramen Place sure nailed its first impression on the food. I’m looking forward to eating more of it!
Still Got The Factory Sticker On It
I see a red door, and I want to paint it black.
It’s obvious from the moment you walk in that That Ramen Place is still a work in progress. Strings of lights along the ceiling create a good funky vibe. Everything else is black. Seating in scattered around the dining room, booth seats alternating with silver and black chairs. The walls are painted matte black. The floor is polished black textured concrete. The tabletops are painted black. As of this writing there are no decorations or adornments on the walls of any kind. I kind of felt like I’d wandered into Darth Vader’s castle on Mustafar. It’s like they asked the question from Spinal Tap: “How much more black could this be, and the answer is none… none more black.”
Other signs of growing pains included a missing wastebasket in the restroom, no restroom signage, no soda fountain (yet), no take-out service, water glasses that are on the smallish side, and an awkwardly-interfacing Point Of Sale terminal. There’s what looks like a wet bar on one side of the room, just standing there, wanting to be used and loved. Why is it there? We need answers.
I overheard the proprietor(?) assuring customers that they’d be getting more equipment and more resources in the near future, so I assume this spot will get some of the TLC it needs. In the meantime, she was so charming, and happy, and bubbling warmly at everyone. She answered generously when customers had questions about items or ingredients. She was obviously passionate about what she’s doing. I don’t know who she is, I only know I want her to succeed.
Thank you, That Ramen Place, for a splendid lunch!
Address: 301 N Shackleford Rd Suite F3 Little Rock, Arkansas / Phone: (501) 414-8433 / Hours: 11:00 AM – 9:00 PM Mon-Fri; 11:00 AM – 9:30 PM Sat
Ramen blah blah blah, Japan blah blah blah, poor college student blah blah blah, authentic blah blah blah, Heart Hospital blah blah blah Little Rock. There! That’s out of the way let’s walk into Aji Ramen Bar and see if it delivers. (Spoiler: Yes.)
Aji’s footprint is itty bitty. Tables and countertops line every square inch of available space along the walls. Elbow to elbow with everyone in the room, there’s a sense of the lively bustle of a downtown Tokyo joint. Our first step into Aji’s confined spaces found us amidst a small throng of people packed around the front door.
Be ready to make lunch buddies with your fellow Ramen enthusiasts.
We stood among the entrance crowd for a few minutes. Do we “please seat ourselves” or do we “please wait to be seated”? Pro tip: just because there are empty seats does not mean you get to walk up and claim them. A host or hostess will eventually come along and put you where you need to be.
Not long after the hostess took our name, Spouse and I were seated at our table. We were glad we dressed warmly, ‘cuz our table was right near the entrance, with only a crowd of hungry diners standing between us and the chilly bluster outside. Suffice to say we felt every patron entering and leaving.
Sake to me!
Our server asked if we wanted anything to drink, and really without thinking about it, I said “Sake”. I’m at a ramen bar and I’m going all in on the experience, right?
I expected a shot glass sized portion, or maybe a wine glass. What I didn’t expect was a small glazed carafe. Whoa. That’s more than I bargained for. Spouse doesn’t care for sake, so this was all me.
I really don’t know why I ordered sake. Sake, bitter and sour, is not my jam, and whatever brand they were slinging really didn’t change my mind. But it was warm, delivered a pleasant buzz, and kept me occupied while we waited for the food to arrive. I poured shot after shot after shot into the tiny glass and I kept thinking “Surely I’m near the bottom now”, but it just kept coming until I told myself “enough is enough”. Spouse, luckily, was driving today.
One of the eight Takayoki which made its way to our table.
Our server strongly hinted that we should try the Takoyaki appetizer. We’re terribly glad he did. These bite-sized appetizers were an experience of flavor and texture that surprised and delighted. For this app, octopus is pureed, fried, and served with a delightful cream sauce and thin slices of squid. The outside was crispy and well seasoned, while the interior was velvety and delicious, with a small chunk of octopus flesh to add to the texture. Spouse, not normally a fan of this kind of seafood, actually enjoyed it. The tidy portion size meant we could proceed to our ramen entrees without being over-stuffed.
And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for … the arrival of the ramen bowl!
I ordered the Cha-Siu Ramen(pork broth with pork belly, soft boiled egg, onion, black mushrooms, and chili hair) with an extra hit of egg and green onions. Spouse ordered the Chicken Ramen(same as above, except with marinated chicken instead of pork). If you want to see what else they have on the menu, I invite you to click here.
For whatever reason, my ramen bowl came out several minutes before hers. Well, when I say “mine” it was actually her chicken ramen; some kind of mix-up on the line led to our meats getting switched. I was several bites in before I got to the meat, and noticed “Hey! This isn’t pork belly!” and sure enough it wasn’t, but boy, that chicken was fabulous. By the time the other bowl arrived, we were able to swap out the meats and dine away happily.
The first issue I needed answers to was the broth. I dipped my large plastic soup spoon into a corner of the bowl and let it fill with nothing but. That first sip was confirmation that we were in for a treat. I tasted a rich, abundant pork flavor, bold yet delicate, and best of all, fresh. You could add just about any ingredient to this broth and make it sing. Spouse, still awaiting her (my) bowl, had a sample, and agreed that it was excellent. Just recalling that first taste of this broth makes me want to go back for more right now, except I have this stupid blog post to write.
Pictured above: Not what I ordered, but still amazing.
So how about them noodles, anyway? I fished out a string with my chopsticks and friends, there’s no going back to packaged ramen after this. The freshly made noodles still cling to the essence of whatever wheat flour they used, along with a subtle essence of things green and earthy, with the proper amount of firmness. Orthodox Pastafarians would declare, rightly, that they had been touched by His Noodly Appendage.
The boiled eggs, as well as the chicken and pork belly, are apparently marinated in a soy brine for some time before being cooked and included in the ramen bowl. They were all divine. The chicken was a real surprise; the chunks were nice and meaty and tender. Another surprise was the canned corn (fresh corn probably not being a thing found on the Japanese mainland?), but being a Midwestern boy, I was happy to eat it all up. The non-spicy chili hairs had a nice concentrated red pepper flavor, plus they looked purty.
When Spouse’s (my) bowl finally arrived with all its pork belly glory, I experienced an initial moment of “meh” of a dry, fleshy bit of the belly until I found several bits of roasty, fatty delight. I took a bite, and paused to close my eyes for a moment and just reflected on how awesome life is when something is just right. Like this bite of pork belly, bathed in that magnificent broth. Mm.
Sake Tower must be appeased.
The slight snafu with our orders notwithstanding, the service at Aji Ramen Bar was top notch. The turnover was quick; the diners arrived hungry and left happy in record time. Our server was friendly, efficient, and quick to offer suggestions and information on the elements of our meal. Deft at navigating the crush of people, quick to deliver our European chopsticks (aka fork) to our table, he also gave us suggestions on the optimal time to arrive at Aji so as not to get lost in the crowd.
The most amusing moment came as we were paying our check. Our server checked the sake decanter and discovered I had not yet drunk all of the sake. (That was not by accident.) “One more!” and poured it into the tiny glass. Ugh. I took a slug, put the glass down. “One more!” he said again, emptying the contents, and I took my final drink of that stuff. Remember, going all in on the experience!
For my efforts, he rewarded me with a bright smile and a double high-five. Gods (Quob included), I love this place already.
As we walked out of Aji across the cold drizzly parking lot, our tummies sloshing with ramen and me wobbly from the sake, we agreed how satisfied we were. I promised myself I’d get out and try new places more often, but I may sneak back to Aji first.
The only question that’s on my mind now, given the obvious success of Aji Ramen Bar and the appeal of ramen to the city of Little Rock:
Address: 12911 Cantrell Rd., Suite 18 Little Rock, Arkansas 72223 / Phone: (501) 313-5335 / Hours: 11:00 AM – 2:30 PM, 5:00 PM – 10:00 PM
Anyone with a fondness for Indian grub knows that we already have a groovy scene going on here in Little Rock. Now Dogtown welcomes its newest option: Saffron Indian Cusine.
Located in one of the many strip malls that line western Cantrell Road, Saffron might be easy to overlook. Sort of a “you have to know it’s there, to know it’s there” kind of location. My fondness for my Indian food, combined with the fact that this place is New To Me, led me to lunch there one sunny afternoon to conquer its buffet.
Saffron Indian Cuisine’s interior is chic and cozy.
Having heard good things about the food, I looked forward to the business of stuffing my face. The wonderful aromas of India struck me the moment I stepped through the door, which made me optimistic. The interior of the restaurant is a bit compact for a buffet, but I was surprised at how well people were able to get to and from their tables to the line.
I was struck almost immediately that the buffet didn’t have the huge variety of choices available at other Indian buffets here in town, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Quality over quantity, right? As I always do, I started with a rice base on my plate, which helps absorb the various curries and sauces, and piled on the offerings.
Presenting the buffet at Saffron Indian Cuisine, or at least part of it.
Among the highlghts and lowlights:
The buffet sported a rich red curry with paneer (Indian cheese); it had excellent flavor, but I only found one lone chunk of the cheese floating in the sauce. I’d have liked more.
I was anxious to try the Curried Goat, there was no meat in the sauce, just a lonely cinnamon stick swimming at the bottom. It was the same situation on my second trip through the line. By the time they finally got some actual goat out there, I was already paying my check.
The Saag (spinach) with Chicken was the highlight of this visit. Friends, I have to say, I’ve eaten saag dishes in numerous Indian joints. It’s one of the things I most look forward to when dining Indian. This might be my favorite I’ve ever had. Bursting with flavors and spices, rich, salty, and with a really hot kick to it, this saag was next level. I could eat this forever and ever, if I had to.
I was wary of the Sweet & Sour Veg that came in a toxic-looking bright orange sauce, so I only served myself a meager spoonful, but it was pleasantly tangy and tasted fresh. As a final note, “Sweet and sour” seemed a misnomer because there really was no “sweet” component.
The Chicken Tandoori was adequate. The seasoning and sauce were pleasant, but my palate likes the sauce to be brighter, more tangy. Also, the chicken didn’t convey the subtle smoky, charred taste of the tandoor oven, which for me is the whole point of tandoor preparation. But it was well-cooked and moist, so credit where due.
I sampled the agreeable pakoras and medu vada. I noted with interest that scattered amongst the pakoras were small, bright green leaves that I couldn’t identify.
The Sambar Soup, which is lightly curried lentils vegetables with hearty chunks of carrot, onion, and eggplant, wasn’t life-changing but it had a good hearty flavor. My only real issue with the soup is that they only offer these really teeny tiny bowls for you to serve it into. I was afraid these huge hunks of vegetables would come hurtling over the sides.
It’s a basket full of naan-sense!
About midway through my first plate, the hostess apologized profusely for the tardiness of my basket of naan bread. I just sort of shrugged, because to me, a) naan is usually just kind of filler, and b) I never finish it and I feel like a big wasteful buffoon. But when that basket arrived, I understood. I really did. This naan was a great complement to the food. Crispy on the outside, bready on the inside, with a char that sets off the flour and the salt, I was very pleased. (I still didn’t finish it, though.)
The food was more positive than negative, by far. You know you’re eating real Indian food when you’re spitting out the occasional cardamom seed or chunk of star anise. Part of the experience, right? I’m curious to return to see what they will offer on different days of the week.
While I really really wanted to work the lyric “I’m just mad about Saffron” into this review, it’s hard to overlook glitches in the staffing and service I witnessed. The restaurant had one beleaguered staff member in charge of seating customers, ringing up the register, slinging naan baskets, filling and refilling water glasses, and who knows what else. The two other staff I saw seemed focused only on busing tables — and even then, the table to me went un-bused until another couple was seated there. More than one customer arrived at the front door. And stood there. And stood there. And stood there some more. Until finally they had to chase someone down to get seated. Then of course there was the Mystery of the Missing Goat and the Tale of the Tardy Naan. Perhaps Saffron was short staffed during this particular buffet, but I thought the whole dynamic was in need of serious fine-tuning.
Saffron definitely has their groove on with the food, so I feel it might be worth my time to get there during non-buffet hours to order off the menu. I’m crossing my fingers that the kinks I observed this visit were just an unfortunate off-day.
Address: 2630 S Shackleford Rd Little Rock, AR 72205 / Phone: 501-404-0144
Reading all the various food blogs that cover our abundant restaurant scene in Little Rock, it occurred to me that there are far too many places that have been on my radar, that locals say this place is awesome, and that for whatever reason I haven’t visited. “Oh, I need to try that sometime” is something I say way too often to anyone who’ll listen. And also, “I haven’t written anything in a while! Let’s take care of that!” So today, I made it a point to get out to Tacos 4 Life, located in the Shackleford Crossings shopping center. And then write about it.
There’s a real, worthwhile, feel-good reason to visit this restaurant: Tacos 4 Life tackles hunger by donating a portion of each meal to Feed My Starving Children. But unicorns and rainbows could only carry the concept so far: customers are also going to want a decent meal to go along with their purchase. Can they expect one?
I’m happy to report that the meal was satisfying, and I’m looking forward to returning.
I arrived at the location around 11:30, which is usually when Little Rock is in full “get yer lunch on” mode. I noticed right away that the lot surrounding the building was full of vehicles, and counted myself lucky to find a parking spot toward the rear. The place is happening.
Lunch time at Tacos 4 Life was rather lively.
Having no preconceived notion of the franchise, I was expecting a kind of fast-casual experience like, say, Chipotle. I didn’t expect the dining room to be so cavernous! It was more like a funky cantina-style vibe, with a bright interior, strings of lights, and high wood-beamed ceilings. Definitely a great place to enjoy some tacos. Had the day been more agreeable, I would have chosen to sit out on the pleasant patio at the rear of the building. Maybe next spring.
The food process was pretty simple and expedient. I placed my order at the counter, received my number and a plastic cup full of Paradise Punch, and took my seat at a two-top near the side entrance. Quick side note: When I arrived I danced right up to the order-taker slash cashier with no wait, but the time I finished up and left, there was a line of maybe a dozen customers. This place is poppin’! Judge your arrival thusly.
Buffett soundtrack not included.
“Paradise Punch? What the hell is Paradise Punch?” I hear you ask. It’s punch. Non-alcoholic, sweet, fruity … but with a touch of coconut. I’d just been on the treadmill for an hour, so this really hit the spot, but of course it undid my being on the treadmill for an hour. The straw comes with a small black phony mustache, which is a genius way to get people to take selfies with their beverages, thereby giving Tacos 4 Life a whole mess of free social media publicity.
Around ten minutes after I sat down, at typical fast-casual speed, my order arrived.
Behold! The Spicy Chorizo Taco Meal! With a side of Cilantro Pesto Rice!
The tacos were way larger than I expected. Local favorite Local Lime, who (still) slings my favorite tacos in town, uses much smaller tortillas. By comparison, these felt enormous. Not that I’m complaining! I’m just used to more … ahem … stingy sized tacos.
First, the chorizo. It was top notch. Not quite at the lofty level as Local Lime’s chorizo, but it comes awfully close. And it felt like a mountain of it had been stuffed into the tortilla. Very cumin-forward, dense yet crumbly, brimming with flavors of garlic and other spices. My first couple of bites I thought “ehhh, this isn’t really spicy” but as I progressed through the meal, there was a definite slow burn building. So, A+ to you, Tacos 4 Life, for getting the chorizo right.
The chorizo tacos come topped with Mexican corn, and cotija cheese, and fried jalapenos. The corn and cheese didn’t really contribute anything remarkable to the tacos. They were fine, but they were also like “whatever”. The real revelation was the fried jalapenos. I didn’t read the menu description beyond the word “chorizo” so I was expecting these to be pickled jalapenos. Imagine my surprise when I took a bite — and instead of a jalapeno, it was akin to eating a tiny chile relleno! Instead of a one-note pepper, there was a depth of fried goodness and well cooked chile. This was a really neat touch. Mind blown.
The rice was perfectly cooked, and the cilantro pesto was … for lack of a better word … interesting. Kind of bitter, and kind of earthy, I thought it could be brightened up a bit. I ended up liking it after adding a squeeze of lime and a dash of hot sauce, a variety of which is available abundantly by the fountain drink machine.
All in all, this was a happy little outing. I thought back to the moment when I’d just sat down at my table, and a server walked by with a platter of the Ultimate Nachos that another customer had ordered, and thought “those will be mine some day.” For now, my belly satisfied, and also my conscience, I knew I’d be returning.
This delicious image courtesy the Jas. Townsend And Son YouTube channel
I figured that fried chicken, being a thing that clogs American arteries most aggressively, would be an American invention invented by Americans. (Simplified redundancy intentional.) But to my great surprise, fried chicken — my second favorite thing to eat after BBQ spare ribs — apparently has roots back to Scotland and England. And here’s a video that shows you a step-by-step recipe from the 1736 English cookbook, “Dictionarium Domesticum.”
I defy you to watch that video and not want to make fried chicken. The video is a perfect blend of simplicity, historicity, authenticity, context, and authority. Plus a tri-corner hat!
So, with the sense of urgency that a new discovery like this I cast aside my plans to make some tenders to accompany Giada de Laurentiis’ amazing lemon spaghetti and do some serious 18th century homemade fried chicken.
The Marinade
The Townsend video recipe for the marinade lists lemon juice, vinegar, salt, pepper, cloves, and bay leaves and a three-hour soak. I ended up going with malt vinegar as my secondary acid, partly because the video suggests this is what they used, but also based on my love for malt vinegar with fish and chips. Although the video suggests a three-hour marinade for chicken parts, I felt two hours would be more appropriate for these tenders. I don’t think I was wrong. The meat had a very malty character after frying which I think suited it perfectly.
The Batter
Batter up! As in the video, I used a cup and a half of all-purpose flour, and some salt. He calls for a fair portion of wine here to thin the flour out and make a pancake-batter consistency, but I forgot to get a box of cheap white wine when I was at the store, so I used white wine vinegar and about a cup of water instead. Needless to say this batter was a tang-fest, and I don’t say that this is a bad thing. Once the egg yolks were added, I couldn’t help but look at this bowl of batter and say “You know, you’re really a thing of beauty.”
The Fry
The video says “use whatever oil you want”. Oh, holy vague advice, Batman! I went with a big honking container of peanut oil, because Google said that its smoke point was good for fried chicken. And it was.
The video doesn’t pretend to give a fry time for the chicken, just advises to keep it in until it’s a beautiful golden brown color. “When it looks like you want to eat it” is probably the best advice you’ll ever get on fried chicken of any kind.
A bit of an aside, this fry made an unholy mess of our cooktop. The problem wasn’t necessarily the oil splatters (that happens) but the slopping of the batter as I transferred the chicken to the skillet. Tenders in the batter ended up stuck together only to divorce in the most ugly way on the way to frying, causing batter splatter and burnt offerings on the cooktop as well as the edge of the pan. This is not the fault of the recipe or anything other than my own inexperience, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel betrayed.
I’ll admit that I’m a huge paranoid wuss about frying stuff indoors. As much as I adore fried chicken, which is only one letter off from friend chicken, I don’t relish the idea of uncontrollable grease fires that leave me homeless, nor burns that leave me looking like Deadpool. But with the aid of a sturdy iron skillet and a frying thermometer, the frying process went easier than I expected.
The Result
Yum.
These fried tenders were good, and not just a little. The tenders were crisp and crunchy, without being greasy. The lemon/vinegar brine permeated the tenders thoroughly and added zest to every bite. The white vinegar in the breading made every bite feel like a salty treat, even though I only used a teaspoon of salt in the marinade and a sprinkle in the batter.
I enjoyed every bite, but the real validation came most from my ten year old son, who told me “You have got to make this again.”
Saigon Cuisine did the pan-Asian thing and served up some fine dishes, but we learned quickly not to go there for Thai food.
Absolute Beginners
IN my previous No Thai Like The Present, I discussed the magic of the food from Thailand, and celebrated the fact that Little Rock finally has actual Thai restaurants serving exquisite Thai dishes, ones that take me back to the fare I enjoyed as a D.C.-area denizen. It’s a dramatic change from 2003 (the year I moved to Dogtown), though the road to today’s improved scene was full of bumps.
From 2003 to around 2009, Little Rock had a smattering of restaurants hinting they served Thai food, with varying degrees of success. My favorite, and the one working the hardest to bring Thai flavors our way, was Lilly’s Dim Sum And Then Some. While not strictly Thai, Lilly’s winter menu offers a zesty, coconutty variation of tom kha kai soup and a well-balanced panang curry that a friend of mine declared “the best dish in Little Rock” (I had to agree with him, at the time). Lilly’s is still chugging along, its menu in the words of David Byrne “same as it ever was, same as it ever was”. (If it ain’t broke…) I loved Lilly’s at the time, but due to a combination of daddy-hood and a plethora of other restaurants that have arrived since, I haven’t been in years. Writing about Lilly’s makes me want to go back!
Lilly’s wasn’t the only Pan-Asian restaurant on the scene; Saigon Cuisine opened a couple of years after I moved to Little Rock, its awning claiming “authentic Vietnamese – Chinese – Thai food”. Their menu went on forever and ever, which usually tells me this isn’t exactly a laser-focused restaurant, but the entrees seemed enticing on (laminated) paper. Unfortunately the Thai curry I ate on my first visit had more in common with curries from China and Vietnam than Thailand, in my humble, so from then on I stuck with the Vietnamese items. The food was decent enough, but we stopped going after discovering pho at Van Lang. Saigon Cuisine packed up and headed to western Cantrell a few years ago (where according to this article the food was vastly improved), then they moved to Conway, and then eventually moved out of existence altogether.
Van Lang Cuisine near UALR deserves a mention during this period, for its hot lemongrass soup with shrimp which was for all intents and purposes a huge, zesty, sour bowl of tom yum goong which I enjoyed immensely. I don’t believe it survived the transition to its new Korean owners
Gone, But Mostly Forgotten
ABOVE: Despite selling printing supplies, it’s probably a happier place to eat now.
We had one small Thai restaurant on West Markham, where Cartridge World now happily sits. I don’t remember its name; my memories of dining there are clouded by sadness.
Despite this being a dedicated Thai restaurant, I only managed two or three visits. I never had sit-down dinner service, nor ordered off the menu, so my swift harsh judgment comes solely by the weekday buffet. I know, I know, I respond as you shake my shoulders violently and tell me “YOU CAN’T JUDGE A RESTAURANT BY ITS BUFFET” but I calmly reply with “Taj Mahal” <mic drop>.
Strike one: Most of the food on the buffet was Chinese. Sweet and sour chicken, egg rolls, egg drop soup, and only a couple of actual rather ho-hum Thai chicken curries doth not a Thai experience make. There might have been pad thai, or something else humdrum and stir-fried. If you’re going to claim you’re a Thai restaurant, you might start by serving Thai food.
Strike two: The dining room was dominated by a woman who I presumed was the owner; whoever she never let me eat in peace. “You eat too fast!” she once complained to me. (She wasn’t wrong, but I was there on a tight one-hour lunch break which didn’t permit a drive to and from the Heights and leisurely meal.) On another visit, she bemoaned her empty tables and went on a rant about how people of Little Rock don’t appreciate different types of food. “Only one Thai restaurant! Only one Indian restaurant! People here don’t want to try anything different!” Well, sorry, ma’am. It’s not us, it’s you.
Strike three: The place closed not long after my last visit. I never missed it, but it left that gaping Thai hole even wider. I knew Little Rock would love a decent Thai restaurant, but it seemed pointless to hope.
Then again, who would have thought there would be a new Star Wars movie coming out in 2015?
Clockwise, from top left: Taco; Spanish; Prosciutto-Arugula; Olive/Onion Pizzas
“Hi, I’m Jacques, and you’re about to submit to my charm.”
One of the most striking passages in Jacques Pepin’s absorbing Heart & Soul in the Kitchen was a simple off-hand suggestion to “use flour tortillas for a quick lunch pizza”. He mentions this and then is off and running to his next kitchen reuse/repurpose hint without letting the reader stop to ponder the potential mind-blow.
“Don’t be stupid. Flour tortillas are Mexican, and pizza is Italian,” you retort. But believe it or not, flour tortillas work and the simplicity is brilliant. A package of a dozen flour tortillas is basically a dozen mini-pizzas waiting to spring into action, along with their sidekicks Tomato Sauce Girl, Cheese Boy, and Toppings Acquaintance. Then some time in a 450º oven “until it looks like you want to eat it” and Boboli’s your uncle! My ten year old son now declares this his favorite type of pizza, so I guess I’m doomed to make it until he decides he likes something better.
I want to take a moment to discuss my favorite mini pie. This is my tribute to the Happy Joe’s Taco Pizza from the famously fun pizzeria chain of the Quad Cities region: tomato sauce, cheddar/jack cheese, chorizo (HJ’s uses spiced ground beef), homemade salsa, Doritos, and arugula (subbed because I didn’t have any iceberg). Yes, Doritos are a pizza topping! This is a thing to be celebrated, not feared. Nobody outside the Quad Cities seems to appreciate the wonderful creature that is Taco Pizza. It was my favorite of the bunch… and I’m determined to make everyone in Little Rock try Taco Pizza before I die.
If you prefer bready, doughy pizza crust then flour tortillas are probably not your preferred base. And I’m probably way too excited about how this worked out for me. But for this revelation, I salute you, Mr. Pepin! May your heart and soul live long in all our kitchens.
The Green Papaya Salad at kBird is a big ol’ flavor explosion.
IF you’ve lived in Little Rock for any period of time and never tried Thai cuisine, you might ask “Why are these columnists and bloggers always wondering when we’re going to get a decent Thai restaurant? What’s so great about food from Thailand, anyway?”
The short answer: because it’s not afraid to get into your mouth and kick your tongue right in the buds. When you’re ready to branch out from pad thai and discover a vibrant, saucy phat phrik khing or the brazenly in-your-facehole tom yum soup, chances are you’ll become a fan also.
kBird‘s colorful papaya salad in the photo above serves as a tantalizing sample: an assembly of crunchy strings of green papaya flesh, dressed with palm sugar, tangy lime juice and the pungent, salty fish sauce; a sweet crunch of roasted peanuts which add additional depth and texture; and finally, an ample dash of chili which provides a delightful lingering heat that opens up your senses for the bites to follow. The warm, slightly toasty sticky rice that accompanies it is perfect for capturing the dressing from the bottom of the bowl (can’t let it go to waste, now!). The range of flavors is exquisite.
kBird’s Spice Tray: “Because too much is never enough.”
And because it’s possible that the food isn’t salty enough or nuclear-hot enough, the really good Thai places bring out the spice tray to enhance the already intense sensations. It’s tempting to think of the spice tray as condiments, but it’s more accurate to think of the fish sauce, crushed chili flakes, vinegar-soaked peppers, or other items as extensions of the basic ingredients.
ABOVE: Thai food on vacation
So, in answer to the question: Why Thai? It’s bold, it’s fearless, it’s an adventure. If this were the mid-’90s, one might say it is the most exXxtreme of all the cuisines.
Oh, how I missed it!
When I moved to Little Rock in 2003, the city already had a pretty well-established food scene, but Thai was sorely under-represented. I had grown to adore the abundant Thai restaurants over my 17 years living in the Washington, D.C. area, and it took Little Rock almost a decade to bring it home with any sort of permanence. This made me Saddy McSadface. (Is that meme worn out yet? Shrug.)
Thai food at Oishi is sometimes miss, but mostly hit.
But in 2016, here in the Heights, I’m within walking distance of two places where I can get my fix! And I’m in easy driving distance of a third place at the Shackleford Crossing that is doing Thai the way I remember. Other restaurants are incorporating spicy Thai dishes into their menus to get in on the game; basic ingredients that you normally wouldn’t find at Kroger, such as lemongrass and Thai basil, are finding their way onto store shelves. Little Rock may be late to the Thai party, but now we’re drunk on fish sauce, which is a disgusting way to describe such a beautiful movement.
As I sat in kBird on Thursday and snapped the photo of the green papaya salad on my smartphone, it struck me how interesting it might be to revisit the Thai restaurant scene from my own perspective, to remember how barren it was back in 2003, and work my way back up to the present day where I’m sitting in a fabulous Thai place which I arrived at on foot. It turned out to be too much for a single blog post, because it turns out I can’t stop yammering about Thai food.
So look to this space for upcoming entries, and please feel free to share your own.
