One of my obsessions since moving to Berkeley is to find good Vietnamese food in the East Bay.

I made my rounds in Downtown Berkeley with no luck whatsoever. Establishments including Pho Hoa, Saigon Express and Le Regal shamelessly use powdered broth as their soup base (at least it tastes like it) leaving my mouth filled with an MSG essence. Gross.

Last Saturday was a breakthrough. Umamimart Queen, Kayoko, visited me in the East Bay and suggested Rang Dong in Oakland’s Chinatown. Most good Vietnamese restaurant score very low on “atmosphere” points, and by the looks of Rang Dong, this place fit the profile as we walked in. Initially suspicious of the low customer population in the restaurant (it was 12:30 on Saturday), I walked in while my stomach was eating itself in hunger.

We started off with fresh spring rolls. Score! These were firm without being dried out. The ingredients inside were tightly packed with no sign of wilted greens. The pork and shrimp were ample in portion. These babies had nothing to hide.

Shortly after some “Who ordered what?” confusion by the server, we got our huge pho bowls. On first sip, the broth really popped out in flavor. After what felt like a few gallons of MSG broth during my search for great Vietnamese in the East Bay, my first sip at Rang Dong was super-satisfying.

This was my husband Washi’s raw beef pho. The meat was tender and flavorful. The broth was dark – no wishy-washy chemically enhanced flavors here.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of my seafood noodle soup, but that was equally noteworthy. The broth was light in color but carrying the depth of a slow cooked, savory concoction – most likely derived from chicken.

Each bowl was semi-pricey at $8-9, but well worth it. Their firm noodles come in generous portions. I dream of the day when I can go next and it still hasn’t even been a week! It was hard not to think of a “next time” when our neighbors on one side were eating some amazingly aromatic chicken wings with a clear sauce while the neighbors on our other side were sharing a bowl of bright red, spicy noodles – taunting us as they were transferring the rice noodles in mid-air.

By the time we left, Rang Dong was buzzing with peeps. I guess everyone had a rough Friday night…

RANG DONG
724 Webster Street
Oakland, CA 94607-4228
T: 510.835.8375‎

Walking through the French Quarter during Mardi Gras, I saw this really huge purple and orange sign, sparkling from blocks away. When I got closer, a cute boy was pushing a cart, with fake boxes of ice cream and glass bottles of booze. Onlookers, who seemed more like locals, kept stopping him to take his picture. What’s this all about? I wondered.

Turns out he dressed up as K&B, a defunct drug store chain that was headquarted in New Orleans. According to Wiki, they had their own line of ice cream (Creole Cream Cheese!!!), liquor, and even beer. It would be the equivalent of Thrifty’s, for us Californians (both bought out by Rite Aid! Oh, corporate America).

By the excitement this guy created just walking down the street, this was clearly a big deal to the locals– K&B represents for them the microcosm of NOLA’s unique past: the town, its history, its culture. At this moment, I realized that New Orleans operates in its own little bubble.

This is my last NOLA post. SAD! I love that town so so much, and I encourage everyone to visit, at least once in their lifetime. The food, the people, the life! Thank you for such a memorable time.

Check out the all my NOLA and Mardi Gras pics here. Don’t miss The Cock and Baby Penis.

This morning I left the house without a coat, beanie, or scarf.  While savoring the fresh air and sunshine I realized Spring had arrived early to the party, and DJ Mother Nature (who’s the one throwing the shindig) was shouting, “Let’s get this party started!”  Well Big Mama, I thought you’d never ask.

A party like this one calls for tequila, and one of my favorite tequila cocktails is a lesser-known classic called El Diablo.  Although I wasn’t able to pin down the history of this drink with absolute certainty, the weight of the evidence points to the king of summer drinks, Trader Vic, as its creator.  Trader Vic is of course most famous for creating the Mai Tai, and—along with Don the Beachcomber—credited with pioneering the Tiki drink culture that swept this country in the 1940s and 50s.

The drink makes its first appearance in 1946 in Trader Vic’s Book of Food and Drink, where he calls it a Mexican El Diablo.  Since there were no other drinks known as El Diablo before this one, the “Mexican” part of the name is pretty superfluous, and Trader Vic probably concluded the same, because he eventually dropped it in his later publications and simply called it El Diablo.

El Diablo
1 ½ oz Tequila blanco (aka silver tequila; I used Partida)
½ oz Crème de Cassis (I used Mathilde)
½ oz lime juice
Ginger ale/beer to top (Reed’s is a bold choice)

Tools: shaker, strainer
Glass: Highball

Place everything except ginger beer in an ice-filled shaker. Shake the devil out of it and strain into a highball glass filled with ice. Top with ginger beer and give it a light stir.

The recipe above is actually a slightly updated version of Trader Vic’s original recipe. Originally Vic called for a 1 ounce pour of tequila, which I’ve increased to 1 ½ ounces in order to balance out the acidity of the lime and the sweetness of the liqueur a little better.

It’s always important to use a good quality spirit when making drinks. When it comes to your tequila, you should always choose one that’s made with 100% agave. It’ll always state it right on the bottle, as this is a badge of honor, and if it doesn’t state it then you know to steer clear of it.

The same goes for your choice of liqueur. I stay away from anything artificially flavored, and drop a few more dollars for something flavored with the fruit itself—in this case blackcurrants forming the essence of Crème de Cassis—which will make a universe of difference.

As for the ginger ale or ginger beer, use a brand that’s not shy in its ginger flavor.  The main difference these days is that ginger beer tends to have a bolder, spicier, ginger-ier flavor than most ginger ales, and tastes much more like what would Vic would have used in his time.  You want the spicy bite of ginger here, as it plays up rather well with the other ingredients in this drink.  It’s really worth avoiding the fake ginger flavored soda hawked by Canada Dry and Schweppes.  You’ll know the difference when you try a quality brand, as it completely upgrades the drink.

This drink is a perfect example of why Trader Vic is considered such a pioneer in the world of boozology.  He deserves credit for his creative use of less commonly known ingredients—using orgeat in a Mai Tai, and in this case, using a Mexican spirit most Americans had at best heard of but not tried, tequila.  And I bet the man knew how to throw one hell of a party.

Speaking of which, let’s get this party started.

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.

This dish so easy, I’m almost embarassed to write this. I mean, everyone needs to eat their vegetables, even lazy people, right?

I got these oyster mushrooms at the Chinese market for $2! Use whatever mushrooms you prefer– I love the array of colors, shapes and sizes you can find at the farmer’s market, although they are a bit more expensive.

Wash spinach and mushrooms and let it dry. Grease up your pan a little with some oil. Toss in mushrooms, sautee for about a minute or two, then add the spinach. Reason for doing this is that spinach cooks WAY FAST so just tossing it in right when the mushrooms are almost ready is perfect timing.

When the spinach hits the pan, add your seasonings. I used a slab of butter, a dash of dashi, a dash of soy sauce. Play around with this to your taste. I like this bottled white dashi (above) that you can get at the Japanese grocery store.

Add fleur de sel, grind some pepper, add whatever your heart desires. That’s it!

Lazyass cooking is not a crime.

Thankfully made it to the Sazerac Bar in the historic Roosevelt Hotel. We weren’t going to have enough time to go, but I managed to sneak in on my last day in town. The space is just so majestic and enchanting!

The hotel itself has quite a history. Opened in 1893 as “The Grunewald”, it was followed by an expansion and name change to “The Roosevelt”. Bought by the Fairmont in the 60s (another name change), then closed indefinitely due to Katrina in 2005. After a major redesign to bring it back to its original 30s vibe, it reopened in recent years as The Roosevelt, and is now a part of the Waldorf-Astoria empire.

Pardon me if I am wrong, but from my reading I am getting that the Sazerac Bar started elsewhere in New Orleans, and did not move into the Roosevelt until 1949.

The actual bar itself is original, made of African walnut. The dark wood walls, plush furniture and floor tiles definitely transports you back in time– such vaudeville grandeur!

Original murals by Paul Niman, painted in the 1930s. Stunning.

Even the garnishes were sliced to perfection.

The Sazerac cocktail is popularly lauded as THE original cocktail (although Paystyle disputed this in his Happy Hour post), comprised of rye, bitters, absinthe, and a sugar cube.

But I have a confession to make. I did not have a Sazerac at the Sazerac Bar. SHAME ON ME. Again, my time in NOLA was running out, and I had just had a Sazerac for lunch, so I went with at Pimm’s Cup. Paystyle, forgive me.

I can’t quite figure out the relationship between the Sazerac Bar, and the Sazerac liquor company (are they related?) but there was a wall dedicated to the famous brown stuff. A bottle of this will make you real poor, real quick. Whenever I see this bottle at any bar, I get a drink with it.

Geekout Time: here’s the original bar menu. Super neat! No Sazerac, but the Ramon Gin Fizz seems to have been all the rage. Also make sure to watch the little video of the history of the bar on the website.

SAZERAC BAR
The Roosevelt Hotel
123 Baronne Street
New Orleans, LA
T: 504.648.1200

This butter is fresh off the farm and totally off the hook. I bought it from Lancaster, PA (Mennonite?) farmers of Millport Dairy, at the Union Square Greenmarket. It’s big– about 5 inches in diameter– and only $5.

We were wandering around on Frenchmen Street, an area right next to the French Quarter that gets just is known to get spankrockinwild for Mardi Gras. While we sauntered in and out of bars and talked to crazy people on the streets in colorful wigs, I saw this sign on neon poster paper.

If you think I was about to pass this up, you are crazy. We had just had massive burgers, (and god, that baked potato) at Port of Call, but damn’t, I wanted some shrimp and grits!

What Kayoko wants, Kayoko gets.

These grits were so creamy, so buttery, so… greasy, they just slipped into my mouth, off the spoon, down my throat. It was all gone in a matter of moments. It was love.

“I need more!” I said to my friends. They looked at me absolutely dumbfounded– they thought I was totally out of my mind.

So I went back. This time, I got the gumbo.

Again, this was just so damn slippery! I couldn’t help but inhale every last drop. The soupy, ricey, shrimp concoction is just so heartwarming. Basically a small bowl of cholesterol that brought me closer to my grave, but SO worth it.

I’m not sure if the truck is here all the time. The Praline Connection is an actual restaurant just down the street. It has been around for a while, and quite well known for their Soul Food, and there are several locations dotted around town.

Here’s Moses, who started talking to me when I went back for Round 2. He must have thought I was crazy.

Moses told me that the restaurant has been in the family for decades. He is opening a branch out in LA, called Cajun Grill Connection (which doesn’t come up in Google searches).

Next time, it’ll be fried chicken, for sure.

THE PRALINE CONNECTION
542 Frenchmen Street
New Orleans, LA
T: 504.943.3934

I only had three days in NOLA, but high on my things to do while I was in town was to go out for Oysters Rockefeller. New Orleans is the birthplace, afterall. When in Rome, folks. When in Rome.

Originally, I wanted to go to Antoine’s, the restaurant that first created the Oysters Rockefeller, in 1899. But Marshall declared that Antoine’s was no fun, and veered me towards Galatoire’s instead; he insisted I would enjoy the atmosphere much more.

Galatoire’s has been around since 1905 (!), right on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. We showed up around cocktail hour, so the staff was still setting up the restaurant. Can we simply sit down for some oysters and a glass of wine?, Pat asked the Maitre d’. The man, in a perfectly fitted suit, obviously very proud of his post, kindly complied.

What an enchanting restaurant indeed! Check out the wallpaper. Love the ceiling fans.

Ahhh, white linens and real silverware. While I love grubby hole- in-the-wall joints, sometimes, just sometimes, I love this too.

Thing is, the place was not stuffy at all, the way fine dining fancy places can be. All the servers were in tuxes, but it still had a laid back, welcoming vibe. I walked in wearing jeans and orange Adidas, no problem. Bottles of Tabasco and Worcester sat on every table. The balance between fancy and casual was right on.

Naturally, I wanted to order the entire menu, but we had just had a late lunch, so I refrained and limited myself to the Rockefellers and a plate of the shrimp rémoulade, which is a Creole dish. How good of me.

Now, I’m used to little dainty oysters, so you could imagine my astonishment when these babies came out. Oysters bigger than your HEAD. Or at least my fist.

The spinach (just spinach?) was a gorgeous green, mixed with breadcrumbs and lots of garlic. And of course, Herbsaint (or Pernod?). It really is such a curious combination of flavors, but somehow compliments the baked oyster so well.

I don’t have any close-ups of the shrimp rémoulade (SAD!) but these were served cold, and were absolutely wonderful. I asked the server how exactly they made them, and he went on a long soliloquy about how they boil the shrimp with a long list of spices for ten minutes, chill, then mix with the tomato-ey, mustard sauce. I loved everything about this dish.

Pat told me that it was near impossible to get a table after 7pm, and the place was always lively and packed. The staff were all exceptionally knowledgeable and seemed to have worked there forever. They possessed a sense of pride in the restaurant that was evident in how they moved through the restaurant. It is a special, magical place.

Galatoire’s, I will be back for more!

GALATOIRE’S
209 Bourbon St
New Orleans, LA
T: 504.525.2021

Found these Scampi Fries at a pub in New Orleans– have you heard of them? They’re from the UK. I thought they would taste like the Japanese Kappaebisen (shrimp chips), but they had more of a zingy citrus flavor than the scampi.

This product does not have a website, but the company did produce this absurd commercial on Youtube. MUST WATCH.

“The smell of success.” HA! I love inappropriate British humor, and how it leaks into mass marketing. It’s just ingenius. The term “scampi fries” can even be found on Urban Dictionary.

In the world of mixology, there aren’t many cocktails based on Cognac relative to the other spirits.  I can count less than twenty old recipes off the top of my head, which is really not much, considering a quarter are mere variations of each other, and another quarter or so share the stage with other spirits like Rum (Fish House Punch, Between the Sheets) and Gin (Delmonico No. 1).

The highly effective marketing of Cognac as too-haute-to-mix may have something to do with this.  Scotch producers have accomplished the same feat through shrewd marketing, though Scotch naturally lends itself to this because it’s generally a more difficult spirit to mix with than Cognac. Perhaps another reason for the comparative lack of truly good Cognac-based cocktail recipes is the dearth of creativity that’s plagued the bartending profession (minus a few bright spots here and there) since the end of Prohibition.  Luckily we’ve seen a real Cocktail Renaissance over the last decade that has thus far not shown any signs of slowing, and so we can undoubtedly expect more good things to come down the pipeline.

For the moment, however, we’ll celebrate one of the few really good Cognac-based cocktails that’s been largely forgotten over the years, the Metropole.

The Metropole is a quintessential pre-Prohibition cocktail. It’s boozy and simple so it doesn’t really mess around, and of course was invented at least a couple of decades before Prohibition took effect.

Before Times Square was sterilized by Guiliani—way before Times Square was sterilized by Guiliani—there stood the Metropole Hotel near Broadway and 43rd St.  Among the hotel’s most notable (and notorious) residents were Nicky Arnstein (international gambler/con artist/entrepreneur, played by Omar Sharif in Funny Girl) and Bat Masterson (buffalo hunter/gunslinger/gambler/sportswriter).  The hotel had a street level bar called Café Metropole which, according to cocktail historian David Wondrich, had an equally notorious clientele of “crooked ward-heelers, mid-level gamblers, palookas and their handlers, actors…and every other species of half-hand bigshot who talks sideways and never looks you in the eye except when he’s dealing from the bottom of the deck.”

It was here that the Metropole cocktail was created, and though I have no clue what a palooka is (nor how to handle one for that matter), I can tell you if this place were around today, you’d find me there tossing back a few.

Eventually bankruptcy forced the hotel to close its doors in 1912, but not without one final furbelow befitting its sordid reputation.  A week prior to shutting its doors, in the wee small hours of the morning of July 13, bookmaker (read illegal gambling-den operator) Herman “Beansy” Rosenthal was gunned down in front of the hotel by rival Jewish gangsters from the Lower East Side.  (Interestingly enough, this little bit of criminal history ties into another classic cocktail, the Jack Rose, but that’s for another day.)

Metropole
1 1/2 oz Cognac (save the fancy stuff; a VS, or even plain Brandy, will do fine)
1 1/2 oz French (Dry) vermouth
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
1 dash orange bitters
Garnish: lemon or orange twist (optional)

Tools: barspoon and mixing glass
Glass: chilled cocktail glass or coupe (pictured)

Stir ingredients well in ice-filled mixing glass (about 30 seconds) and strain into your glass.  The old recipes don’t call for a garnish, but I sometimes find a lemon or orange twist is a nice addition.

I’ve also seen old recipes of this drink that call for a couple dashes of gomme syrup (sugar syrup with gum Arabic added to give it a smoother texture). I’m not sure which is the original, however the era in which this drink was created leads me to believe it’s the one without the syrup. Regardless, they’re both good, and at times I’ll add a dash or two of simple syrup if I feel like having a slightly sweeter drink.

The Metropole is essentially a variation of the original Dry Martini (remember that the original classic Dry Martini was equal parts Gin and French vermouth, with a dash or two of orange bitters), with the Gin replaced with Cognac, and a couple dashes of Peychaud’s bitters added.  In that same spirit I sometimes change the proportions to a 2:1 ratio of Cognac to vermouth, when I desire a stronger drink with greater Cognac flavor.

As with many classic cocktails that were created during the “Saloon Era” of American history where even the law acted lawless (see Gangs of New York, and just about every other period piece set around the mid to late 19th century), the Metropole has a unique story filled with colorful characters.  And even here where the story itself is not so much a tale of the drink’s creation, but simply the backdrop, that in itself is significant (and arguably more important) because it offers a glimpse of the types of folks who might have ordered such a drink, which in turn tells us something about the drink itself.  While we must be careful not to draw too many conclusions, it certainly counters the notion held by some that cocktails with such fancy ingredients as orange bitters are primarily the providence of geeks and aficionados.

And those who still think a real man wouldn’t be caught dead with such a drink in his hand should go look up, um, “Beansy” Rosenthal.

Here’s to old New York, the real metropole.

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.