Chef Sunhui Chang showcases Fusebox beer + wine license notice. Photo: SunIm Chang

Asian cuisine in the Bay Area has a new crop of intensely passionate leaders with enough talent and culinary chops to lure Martha Stewart to the table. Anthony Myint and Danny Bowien stand behind big, bold Mission Chinese. Sylvan Mishima Brackett of PekoPeko Catering’s insanely articulate and authentic Japanese food will certainly land him on the map of grander things -- one hopes the rumors are true that he’s seeking his own location.  And scheduled to open in January, FuseBox, the West Oakland eatery of Korean-born Sunhui Chang, will add fuel to the Korean food fire with housemade gochuchang, exquisitely crafted pickles, bacon mochi, and well-honed culinary passion.

What’s pucker-worthy about Chang’s cuisine is its pickle-centric nature, many varieties of which he’s been sharing with the pickling community. He’s currently crafting several different varieties of kimchee, using the standard cabbage and daikon, and also rapini and turnip greens. He prides himself on making use of the “offal of vegetables” and thereby using ever part -- including radish greens, and reusing a vinegar pickle brine and the pickled garlic that flavors it. He dunks in the drink your standard vegetables such as cucumbers (see the recipe for Oiji below) and breakfast radish, but also more experimental concepts such as blueberries, summer squash, and fennel.  FuseBox is equipped with some vegetable boxes that will grow some of the produce, and Chang is currently working with the People’s Grocery to have them grow additional vegetables for him. Everything pickled and fermented from Chang’s kitchen will be as closely sourced as possible.

Of course, pickles aren’t the only things on the menu. Bacon-wrapped mochi are satisfyingly stretchy and smoky, and Chang will be grilling ko chu jang pork and chicken yakitori, and caking housemade tofu.

Chang takes regular trips to LA to procure quality, small-batch artisan soy sauce -- he says it’s the closest place to find it outside Korea.  But another of the most impressive aspects of Chang’s cooking is that he makes his own gochuchang, the hot, salty and sweet fermented red pepper paste that is the basis of Korean cooking (akin to what miso is to Japanese cuisine). Few are the Korean chefs who make their own. Most Korean markets offer several different varieties, and if you’ve ever eaten Korean food, you’ve tasted it.  It’s used in stir fries like bi bim bab, as a marinade for bulgogi, to flavor stews, as a condiment for crispy lettuce wraps, as the base for soups, and in many varieties of Korean pickles. I’d never tasted good gochuchang until I’d encountered Chang’s proprietary blend of glutinous rice, soybeans, red chili powder, and sugar. The sauce ferments for about 60-90 days.

“It took a while to learn the gochuchang. I went through so many batches where mold had developed. What I make is not as sweet as the store-bought stuff; more earthy.” Chang reports that in anticipation of the FuseBox opening, he’s experimenting with different varieties of gochuchang, including one for fish stews, and another to be eaten fresh.

Chang has kimchee and other Korean flavors flowing in his blood. As a child born in Korea, family friends gathered to play cards at his house and eat his mother’s well-loved kimchee chi gae. “There’s a Korean expression, ‘She just had her hands in the food,’ and that’s why it was so good. We didn’t have recipes or grow up with cooking books. Cooking was just innate to her.”

Eventually, after Chang’s family moved to Guam, his mother opened her own Korean restaurant when he was 13 years old, and he immediately began helping out by cleaning dishes, sweeping, and mopping. Later he was allowed to slice meat and occasionally pop into the kitchen. “I’m so grateful for everything she taught me, and I wish I’d followed her more. However, at the time, I didn’t think she was really, really cooking. It wasn’t as exciting as watching chefs on the cooking shows!” Growing up with Guam’s tiny and remote culinary culture, Chang laughs as he recalls that the PBS show Great Chefs, Great Cities was a huge influence on his career choice.

Just a few days after his 17th birthday, Chang moved to Berkeley by himself to begin qualifying for in-state tuition at UC Berkeley, where he later studied sociology. To fund his schooling, he worked in a bagel shop, then as a butcher and a fishmonger at a market. He soon became a cook at the now-defunct Hwang Won, a Korean restaurant in Oakland, before launching his own catering business for 14 years.

After two years of effort, FuseBox has secured over $17,000 via Kickstarter (where I invested $25); enough to finish construction and, hopefully, have the inside complete for an opening this January. Expansion plans are already underway to offer outdoor seating and possibly open a market next door selling fresh fish, local artisan goods, and of course Chang’s pickles by the jar.

Oiji—Korean Cucumber Pickle

Recipe by Sunhui Chang of FuseBox Oakland

5 small cucumbers—Either Pickling (Kirby), Persian, or Japanese
2 tablespoons kosher salt
3 cloves garlic
The whites of two green onions, cut into 1’ pieces
4-5 Korean chili pepper threads (available at Korean markets)
3/4 cup unseasoned rice vinegar
1/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup water

Wash cucumbers, leaving them wet.  Sprinkle salt on cucumbers and let them sit in a flat dish for three hours, turning them occasionally.

Wash the salt from the cucumbers and trim the ends so that they’ll fit standing upright in a pint-sized jar.  Add them to the jar, along with the garlic, green onion, and pepper threads.

Meanwhile, make the brine.  In a small saucepan, combine the vinegar, sugar and water.  Bring to boil.  Lower heat and simmer for 1-2 minutes.

Pour warm brine over cucumbers.  Cover, cool, and refrigerate.  Enjoy the pickles after two days, but they will last up to two weeks.

Makes one pint.

Photo of Bacon Mochi by SunIm Chang. Photo of Kimchee and Gochuchang by Sarah K. Khan.

I've never been to The French Laundry. Ever since my love for food evolved from outings to the Olive Garden to a lovely dinner at Oliveto, it has represented to me the pinnacle of haute cuisine in America. Several years ago, when I happened to be spending the day in Yountville with an ex-boyfriend, I asked him to slowly drive past the restaurant in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the chef (as we weren't able to get a reservation). And lo -- there he was, the celebrated Thomas Keller, standing in the bucolic backyard and chatting with one of his staff. I squealed loudly like a teenage groupie and my ex-boyfriend remarked, "Well, I can't compete with that."

I still haven't been to the restaurant. But after dining tonight at Benu, I almost feel that I have -- through one of its gifted progeny. Keller's former chef de cuisine of 4 1/2 years, Corey Lee, is the creative force behind this remarkable restaurant. He's been receiving loads of press, with renowned New York City chef David Chang recently declaring Benu, "the best restaurant in America." It's been open for a little over a year, and it's still possible to easily get a prime time reservation on a weeknight. (I'm sure that'll change as they were recently awarded with two Michelin stars.) With my friend Scott Spencer of Spencer's Pantry in tow, we headed to Hawthorne Lane in SOMA.

After you pass through the gate that leads to Benu's stone courtyard, you pass by a glass door on the right that offers you a glimpse of the spotless kitchen that emanates the same calm zen quality as the restaurant itself. The staff seems unhurried, working intently on their dishes at their stations.

The first thing I noticed about the spare, modernist interior after we sat down (designed by Richard Bloch) was the muted, gray tonality of the space that was gently illuminated with a neutral, balanced light. It reminded me of walking into an art museum at dusk or that first moment before a play is about to begin, with the house lights gradually dimmed before the performance. There's a cool stillness that evokes more of a contemplative mood -- rather than a romantic one -- in its atmosphere. With higher-end fine dining, I'm accustomed to walking into hushed, dark spaces lit only by candlelight and the other patrons shrouded in darkness.

Scott and I knew beforehand that we were going to order the 19-course tasting menu ($180 / person, which the whole table must order together). Yes, 19 courses -- and spoiler alert: each one was exquisite. I won't go through the entire tasting menu -- which you can see in the slideshow below -- so I'll just review some of the highlights.

The square black wooden tables, sans white tablecloths, offer an appealing backdrop that is both casual in its presentation yet still retains a formal quality. Each dish is served in a beautiful Korean ceramic vessel (made by KwangJuYo, seemingly crafted with each course in mind as they complemented the ingredients perfectly.) And most of the courses were eaten with a small silver spoon that lay on a stone rest. The service was impeccable; each dish was brought out by a rotation of different servers -- a nice touch that added a punctuation of freshness to each course -- who described the ingredients and the best way to indulge in the dish.

A single bite of oyster and pork belly that wonderfully melded together and was encapsulated in a sugar glass-like kimchi-infused wrapper was probably the most delightful thing I've ever eaten in my life. And to think that was only the second course; my mind was already blown by the combination of the crunchy kimchi glass giving way to the luscious oyster and pork belly in one rapturous, melt-in-your-mouth bite. Umami overload.

Do you know those colorful shrimp chips that sometimes accompany dishes at Asian restaurants? Benu reinvented this snack favorite with their "salt-and-pepper squid" dish by creating a large, peppery black chip topped with tender cubes of squid and jalapeno for a bit of a spicy kick.

And there were the soup dumplings. Not just any soup dumplings, but "foie gras xiao long bao." (I'll digress here for a moment and say that dumplings are one of the core elements of my being. I am obsessed with dumplings, to the point where I contemplated starting my own independent dumpling enterprise.) They arrived on an elegant white circular porcelain platter that's a nod to the steamed bamboo baskets commonly seen in Chinese restaurants. After taking a small bite to release the warm foie gras broth into the spoon, I slurped up the rich soup before eating the rest of the tender pork dumpling. I was rather forlorn that there were only two; it was over much too soon. (And I suppose, come next July, this dish will be off the menu.)

The "beef braised in pear, beech mushroom, sunflower seeds and leaves" -- like the kimchi glass earlier in the meal -- drew upon Chef Lee's Korean roots. One secret to creating tender Korean beef barbecue is to add pear to the traditional soy sauce, garlic, onions and scallions marinade to help tenderize the beef. And the succulent (and I'm guessing, sous vide-prepared) beef was heavenly.

The entire tasting menu unfolded like the four seasons, starting off with lighter bites and spring-like tastes, then ending with deeper, richer autumnal flavors towards the end. A gorgeous dessert of "fig, white chocolate, balsamic vinegar, sake lees (the sediment leftover after rice is pressed to make the alcohol)" resembled a delicate snowfall on a winter's day. It was accompanied with "malted rice tea, pine nut, pine needle honey"; you'd drink the sweet tea, then eat a soft custard at the bottom of the glass.

Three hours later, at the end of our feast -- concluded with fine chocolates from Napa-based La Forêt Chocolate & Confections -- Scott and I were in a state of serene bliss. The flawlessly executed dishes -- with several an homage to Asian home-cooking favorites -- inspired lively discussion between us about technique, ingredients, and our love of food. Benu is a temple to fine dining, and I will make another pilgrimage on another special occasion.

Benu
22 Hawthorne Street
San Francisco CA 94105 map
(415) 685-4860
For parties of seven or more, contact Kathryn Douglass at (415) 685-4860 x116
Dinner service only. Tuesday-Saturday, 5:30pm to 9:30pm
Benu on Facebook

As a Korean-American, I'm naturally partial to the spicy, sinus-clearing cuisine of my heritage. Luckily, Telegraph Avenue in Oakland -- a mini-Koreatown -- is only a few minutes away from where I live in West Oakland. I'm able to get a fix pretty quickly when I'm missing my mom's home cooking.

But there's a new Korean restaurant located beyond the borders of Temescal, Be Bop, that's recently opened its doors in the past 2 weeks in Berkeley's Elmwood neighborhood. The name seems to be a jazz-pun that riffs off of the name of a popular traditional Korean dish, bibimbap, which means "mixed rice." The menu lists 17 variations of the dish, including "dol sot bibimbap," where rice and other ingredients are piled into a heated, stone bowl. (I should mention here that this is one of my all-time favorite Korean comfort food dishes to eat, so I'm pretty thrilled at the prospect of there being 17 options to choose from.) Then you slather on as much "kochujang," a spicy chili sauce, that you can humanly handle and mix it all together with your spoon. Then dig in; this hot and hearty bowl brimming with food will keep you sweating and gulping down big glasses of water for the duration of your meal.

My husband and I both ordered the "bulgogi dol sot bibimbap" (barbecued beef), and I was able to order mine with mixed-grain brown and black bean rice instead of the typical short-grain white rice. You could also add other non-traditional ingredients such as quinoa, walnuts, fruit and more. (Not sure how Mom would feel about these modern flourishes, but I'm willing to try these additions the next time around.)

We were served a variety of appetizers including two fine soups (one pumpkin, one radish), pickled vegetables and of course, kimchi. This pungent pickled cabbage dish is a must for any Korean table. Surprisingly, the restaurant only serves a milder incarnation: "baek kimchi," or white kimchi.

Korean restaurants usually cover the entire table with dozens of banchan, or small complimentary side dishes to accompany your meal, but Be Bop only offered several plates. But with our order of jeon, an assortment of fried delicacies, we wouldn't have had room for much more besides our main courses.

Our servers carefully set down the hot and sizzling stone bowls on our table (the bowls are placed on a thick wooden plates to protect the table from getting burnt). We were a little disappointed that the dishes were not served with the usual topping of a sunny side up fried egg, the yolk of which is cooked by the heat of the ingredients and the dol sot. Still, the dishes were delicious. The vegetables were fresh and well-cooked (each ingredient should be individually sauteed). And the housemade sesame dressing ("dul-kkae" sauce) was excellent. A complimentary sugary red bean gelatin dessert was served following our filling meal.

The restaurant's interior is a brightly-lit, newly renovated space that's best for groups of two or four. Everything on the menu is $15 or less. Be Bop also promises that there's more changes to come with their menu in the next few months, and that they'll be adding on more entrees. And they're still awaiting their liquor license, so no alcohol is being served yet.

Be Bop
Address: map
2975 College Ave
(between Ashby Ave & Webster St)
Berkeley, CA 94705
Phone: (510) 848-8081
Lunch: Mon-Sat 11am - 3pm
Dinner: Mon-Sat 5pm - 10pm, Sun 5pm - 11pm

My visits to New York City are usually hectic, overscheduled, and downright tiring. Between friends and family, the pressures of "researching" restaurants and visiting everyone's favorite museum, vacations to the Big Apple are hardly leisurely affairs. This time, though, I resolved to take it easy.

Fortunately, it's not hard to find good food as long as you schedule meetings for mealtime. Even a late-night rendezvous will uncover good eats.

Two places that I was delighted to try this past weekend, with the guidance of friends, are Gazala Place in Hell's Kitchen (or, as the real estate agents have been calling it since the new high-rises came in: Midtown West) and the infamous Bonchon Chicken in Koreatown.


GAZALA PLACE

Named for its Isreali chef-owner, Gazala Halabi, Gazala Place is a narrow, friendly restaurant that specializes in Druze cuisine. Followers of an ancient sect that branched off from the Muslim religion, the Druze played a little known yet very important role in the politics of Syria and Lebanon, and a small community continues to live as a distinct, designated ethnic group in Israel.

This New York outpost is barely wide enough to slip through walking sideways, and of course, its handful of tables are often full. Up front is a special curved griddle for making pita--a lovely bread that does not at all resemble the convenient sandwich pockets many of us conjure. Rather, the housemade pita is a thin, delicate expanse of crepe-like bread, an edible whole-wheat handkerchief that piles and folds and wraps around an endless array of Gazala's savory bites.

The food, billed as authentic Mediterranean, leans more toward the Middle East: amazingly tender kababs of lamb, chicken and beef cooked over a searing flame, expertly shaped kibbe, and flakey pastry pies filled with spinach or feta. Absolute must tries on the appetizer menu include the brilliantly red "Turkish salad" made from sun-dried red peppers, the luscious goat-cheese labanee spread, and the foule moudammas, a garlicky dip made from fava beans. All are properly, generously drizzled with fruity olive oil. Fortunately, there's no end of bread refills for scooping up the vibrant flavors.

While you're finishing your meal with date cake or honey-soaked kenafi accompanied with thick, strong Arabic coffee or a pot of the minty house tea, expect Gazala herself to stop by your table to chat. She might not tell you her secret recipe for that unforgettable red pepper spread, but her friendly smile will be the perfect cap to a unique lunch.

Gazala Place
709 9th Ave.
New York, NY 10036
(212) 245-0709
Map


BONCHON CHICKEN

In the past couple of decades, West 32nd Street between Broadway and Fifth Avenue has sprouted neon galore. This main strip of Koreantown, once the source of wigs and fashion accessories became known informally as Kimchi Alley and more officially as Korea Way. It's a business district only--look to Flushing for Korean residential enclaves--but this is still the street to come in Manhattan for mandoo dumplings, oxtail soup, soju bars, and both Pinkberry and Red Mango duking it out on the frozen yogurt front.

Koreatown has built up, literally, so second, third, fourth, and even rooftop businesses are the places to be. Getting to a table at hot spot, Bonchon Chicken, requires trekking a creaky, questionable walk-up that magically opens to a sleek lounge of distressed concrete and pulsating music. Young Koreans in date mode, sipping elegant cocktails, belie the real reason everyone comes to this hip lounge bar: the fried chicken.

Made to order, Bonchon's claim to fame is an unassuming plateful of crisp skin, juicy dark meat (pick wings or drumsticks), and a choice of garlic or spicy glaze. Sweet-tart daikon pickles and a cabbage salad offer some foil, but beer or soju is the popular complement.

There's an extensive menu of savory nibbles, and while everyone means to try the other stuff, a quick look around the room reveals the inevitable platter of chicken. For those who prefer to converse without shouting, ask for a table in one of the back rooms or settle for a seat at the bar. The lounge up front, though, is the main scene.

Bonchon Chicken
314 5th Ave., 2nd Floor
New York, NY 10018
(212) 221-2222
Map

With SFIAAF 2008 in full swing, I've managed to munch popcorn with yeast for dinner more times than I care to admit during the past few days. And with another week of films ahead, it looks like I'm going to need to restock my supply of dental floss.

Fortunately, it's been worth it. Over the weekend, two titles that food and film lovers should add to their list were screened to sold-out crowds.

THE KILLING OF A CHINESE COOKIE

Who among us can resist opening a fortune cookie? No matter how jaded or snobby, no matter how much you may hate that dry, tasteless joke of a dessert that sits on your bill after a meal at the Golden Imperial Jade Wok Garden, I dare you to leave behind, unopened and unread, that little strip of paper and its peek into your future.

Like many things we touch in daily life, the beginnings of the humble fortune cookie are murky, but in his documentary, The Killing of a Chinese Cookie, director Derek Shimoda doggedly follows the complex maze of historic claims and counterclaims. Best of all, he collects the amazing stories of thoroughly lovable individuals. Third-generation confectioners and visual artists, judges and lawyers, historians and entrepreneurs, master chefs and hack writers--everyone has an opinion about the fortune cookie. Among the highlights are recollections of the mock trial held in 1983 at the San Francisco Court of Historical Review. Instead of settling the dispute, though, the arguments seemed to have only stirred up the controversy even more.

More recently, The New York Times covered the long-standing debate in a feature about the origins of the ubiquitous cookie. Among the many representing Northern California's interests are the descendants of Suyeichi Okamura, who in 1906 opened the Benkyodo Company, a confectionary in San Francisco Japantown where you can still buy handmade moochi, sembei and other traditional sweets.

One of the Suyeichi Okamura's grandsons shows how hot cookies were once slipped into this wooden rack to cool slightly before a fortune was hidden within its crisp folds.

I can't remember the last time I laughed so much during a documentary while learning about the secrets of the past. With great affection, Shimoda tracks the cookie's influence from Japan's sembei treats to Golden Gate Park's Japanese Tea Garden, though World War II and the rise of Chinatown restaurants, to erotic art and lucky lottery numbers. I won't reveal any more about the film or the cookie's history, since I highly recommend this film. The fun of it will be in watching the story unfold for yourself.

A manager at a Los Angeles factory showing an old tin of fortune cookies that he's resisted opening for posterity's sake.

The Killing of a Chinese Cookie
Directed by Derek Shimoda
Sunday, March 23
12:00 Noon
Camera Cinemas 12 Downtown
201 South Second Street
San Jose, CA 95113
(408) 998-3300

You can still buy tickets for this weekend's screening of the film at San Jose's Camera Cinemas 12. Until then, you can read the memorable fortunes submitted by NTY readers.

I'M A CYBORG, BUT THAT'S OKAY

Many of us have been waiting to see Park Chan-Wook's latest film on the big screen. If you've survived his infamous films, Oldboy and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, then you'll already know that Park's work is not for everyone. But those who love his intense, over-the-top vision or who can't get enough of Korea's boundary-breaking films, his latest should not be missed.

I'm a Cyborg, But That's Okay reveals a new tack in his filmmaking: romantic comedy. In Park's world, though, this means telling the story of how two psychotics in an insane asylum find love across the distance of alternative realities, group therapy and padded rooms.

Im Su-jeong plays Young-goon, a pale and skittish young woman who refuses to swallow even a single grain of rice, since cyborgs like her cannot digest food. She licks batteries to help recharge her energy, talks to vending machines and flickering lights, and mourns the loss of her daikon-nibbling grandmother. Superstar singer Rain plays a scruffy kleptomaniac, Il-sun, who invents and (in one of my favorite scenes in the film) installs a tiny machine called the Rice Megatron--with lifetime service guaranteed--inside Young-goon to help her survive the rigors of reality.

Any further attempt to explain the plot or introduce the cast of characters will fail miserably.

Viewers who nearly died from cuteness overdose during Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain or Michel Gondry's La Science des Rêves might think twice about seeing this film. You'll find a bit of relief from romantic sweetness during a few crazed killer-bot scenes, but don't expect the endless blood or deep anger of Park's earlier films.

I'm a Cyborg is the ultimate film, however, for fans of surrealism on the screen, well-intentioned massacres, hope flickering in a chaotic world, and uncertain non-endings.

What do you do when the rain won't relent, when those gorgeous bay windows welcome in the wind, and when staying home in your pajamas is not only comfortable but life-saving?

Why, make soup, of course!

Soup of the Day

Yesterday's soup highlighted a lucky pantry find -- a forgotten can of Italian white beans. First into the pot went a lonely though generously proportioned carrot, two stalks of celery, a tight-skinned onion, and the final sprigs of holiday herbs: oregano, thyme, rosemary, and parsley. After these were sauteed to fragrant softness, in followed chicken stock, hand-torn plum tomatoes plus their juices, and those toothsome white beans.

I let the pot simmer for as long as it took to read a few chapters from The Ladies No. 1 Detective Agency. For an extra chapter, I tossed in some leftover roasted potatoes, the last of the red wine jus from the New Year's rib roast, then any and all dark greens hiding out in the fridge. That meant, for this pot, some slightly wilted mustard and a wedge of ever hardy cabbage.

Sense a theme here? A simmering soup pot is the best way to clean out your kitchen while steaming up your windows. Slice some bread, pull out the biggest mugs you have, and -- voila! -- the best food ever for curling up on the couch.

Mandu Soup

Around now, the first of the year, is also the time to enjoy ddeok mandu guk, Korean dumplings served in a simple broth. My friend Jineui invited me over to her brand-spanking-new kitchen in Sacramento to celebrate the start of a delicious 2008. Her promise to make mandu was all I needed to hop in the car.

Some dedicated cooks still make their mandu dough by hand, but many just buy thick, round prepared potsticker wrappers. (Be sure to look for “potsticker” on the label; “gyoza” or “wonton” wrappers are too thin for the distinctively chewy mandu texture.)

Jineui’s filling starts with ground beef and tofu that's been crushed finely between her fingers. She blanches bean sprouts then chops them. She adds minced cabbage, salt, pepper, and not much else. No sesame oil for her (“makes them taste funny”), but she does take time to squeeze moisture out of the vegetables. An egg wash helps seal the half-moons, and then the dumplings go into bamboo steamers lined with cabbage leaves.

(Photo by Jasmine Lee)

Serve the first batch of mandu straight from the steamer with dipping sauce. Serve the next few batches in bowls of clear stock with a light sprinkling of green onions and maybe some nori or egg strips if you're wanting to be fancy. Freeze the other few hundred or so mandu to eat through the rest of the winter. (I have one friend blessed with a mother who visits once a year and leaves about 2,000 or so homemade dumplings in their garage freezer before heading back across the Pacific.)

You can read how different families ring in the new year with mandu at the Kimchi Mamas. The Asia Society posted a simple recipe from the Korean National Tourism Organization, about as official as it gets for a humble dumpling, but a much more detailed recipe with helpful technique shots and lessons learned from past mistakes appears at My Korean Kitchen.

Oxtail Soup

Another Korean treat, ox-tail soup, is as easy as they come: Dump a few pounds of bones in a pot, add water plus a healthy pinch of salt, and then simmer for six hours, three if you're in a hurry. Jineui, always going the extra mile, likes to blanche her bones first for a clearer stock. During their long simmering, the bones give off their milky white goodness into a supremely flavorful broth. Serve with a spicy sesame seed dipping sauce. For those of us who live on the edge (fault lines and BSE be damned!) a bowl of liquified marrow manages to be both comforting and decadent at the same time.

What happens if you leave the pot over the wok burner instead of the special, low-flamed simmer burner? Umm...add more water and know that a few crispy brown bits floating around just means more flavor.

Vietnamese Crab Soup

On the more labor intensive side of soups comes one of my favorite Vietnamese dishes. Few restaurants even attempt to offer bun rieu, and a mere handful get it close to right. After feasting on Dungeness, I make broth with crab shells, shrimp shells and pork bones. Tomatoes add brightness, fried tofu offers some chewiness and, for old-school folks like me, cubes of freshly coagulated blood punctuate with silky richness. There's a raft of crab and shrimp bound with egg that hovers over rice noodles. And, finally, there are platters at the table piled high with sprigs of fresh mint and rau ram, chiffonade of cabbage and banana blossom, wedges of lime, tiny but fearless bird eye's chiles, and a dollop or two of shrimp paste to provide those layers of flavor that make Vietnamese food so distinctly fresh and complex.

So...what if you don't want to spend a day at the stove? Then head over to Pho King in East Oakland for a proper bowl. Di Da, one of my favorite Vietnamese restaurants in San Jose, an excellent establishment that happens to be vegetarian, also offers a wonderful, satisfying interpretation of bun rieu.

Pho King
638 International Boulevard, Oakland
(510) 444-0448

Di Da
2597 Senter Road, San Jose
(408) 998-8826

Soupsong

In my last love note to soups, I'm pointing you to the best resource ever for recipes celebratory and everyday, favorite and obscure. I fell hard for Pat Solley the "Soup Lady" a decade ago, while we were trapped in a car among the hills of West Virginia. Her job at the J. Edgar Hoover Building kinda, sorta freaked me out, but her dedication to all things brothy tugged at my heart. Of course, my stomach was never in doubt -- Pat knows more about soup history, traditions, tales, jokes and, of course, recipes from around the world than anyone else I've met. It's rare to find someone who can quote Herodotus and Bob Dylan in the same breath while cooking with all four burners going at once. She's now ensconced far away in Paris, but fortunately I keep warm with her Soupsong website and her excellent book An Exaltation of Soups.

(Illustration by D.C. Bloom)

MAPPING TACO TRUCKS

The next time that craving for carne asada hits, check out this new taco truck map for the nearest snack stop near you. It's only a couple of days old, and already, the entire state of California is dotted with promising forks-and-spoons. Help the cause and add your own favorite source for tacos. Then, print out a map of a neighborhood near you and venture forth!

KOREAN BBQ TRUCK

For another take on ambulatory eating, keep an eye out for Seoul on Wheels. I first spotted Julia, a friendly princess hailing from "the Province of Yummi," parked near my office in SoMa earlier this summer and, hardly believing the words splashed across her sparkling truck, crossed four lanes of rush hour traffic to see for myself.

Eating the spicy pork later (she starts selling at 6:45 am!) I'd have to say that first rice bowl wasn't the best I've had. But she's been tweaking her recipes, and the long lines now at lunch time attest to a faithful, hungry, and patient following. Her generous servings of kimchee fried rice will keep you alert through the afternoon doldrums; just be sure you have plenty of mints in your desk drawer. Seoul on Wheels' no-nonsense website lists its regular parking locations and times. If you work or play south of Market, it's definitely worth a bite.