Burma via Queens: Eating Fish Soup for Breakfast

As we learned from our gasto-journey to Finland, churches are an excellent source for ethnic food, which is convenient for those who want to repent immediately after committing gluttony. So for our foray into Burmese cuisine, we went to the Myanmar Baptist Church’s 15th Annual Fun Fair in Briarwood, Queens, where we chowed down on home-made mohinga (fish stew), wet thar dote htoe (pig organ salad), lahpet thohk (fermented tea leaves), and falooda (squishy milkshake). Then instead of asking for forgiveness, we asked for seconds. Because we’re heathens!

Eats Deets:
Myanmar Baptist Annual Church Fun Fair
Second Saturday in August
143-55 84th Drive (Briarwood, Queens)

El Salvador via Woodside, Queens: This Meal Tastes Like Pupusa

ADAM: El Salvador is the smallest country in Central America, taking up roughly the same amount of space as New Jersey. That being said, all the dishes we ate from El Salvador were better than every single thing that has ever come out of New Jersey ever. With the possible exception of Bon Jovi. For our gorging, we headed to the restaurant Izalco, which takes its name from El Salvador’s super-awesome volcano that—fun fact!—erupted almost continuously from 1770 to 1966.

LAURA: We were waited on by the owner’s son and chef José, who recommended that we start with some traditional Salvadoran drinks, Marañón juice and Horchata. Marañón, known as the cashew apple, hangs off the nut like some kind of parasitic twin. But a parasitic twin that you’d happily gnaw off—it tasted like a less acidic version of pineapple. Horchata is a finely blended beverage of rice, peanuts and spices. The first sip hit me with a strong peanut punch, but the aftertaste was more reminiscent of milk that had been seaped in Cinamon Toast Crunch cereal.

ADAM: We appetized on a hearty sopa de pata, aka cow foot soup. It came overflowing with yuca, plantains, tripe, corn-still-on-the-cob and, of course, cow piggies. The feet meat (served still clinging to the bone) was pretty fatty but surprisingly downable. Really, the weirdest part was the soft plantains. Think of slurping a beef broth then running into a cooked banana. It wasn’t bad, just not something I’d personally do with my Chiquitas.

LAURA: The stars of our dinner were the pupusas, corn tortillas stuffed with pork cracklings and cheese. They’re the country’s best-known dish, created centuries ago by El Salvador’s indigenous Pipiles Indians—and don’t let a pupusa-selling Honduran tell you otherwise. So how do you stuff a pancake? According to Jose, you roll the dough into a ball, finger a hole in the middle to stuff with goodness, then flatten it out on the griddle. Sounds like a prime candidate for some kind of as-seen-on-TV gadget. Pupusa Puff, anyone?

ADAM: We also got all up on the seafood tip with shark ceviche and fried yuca with fried pescaditos. Pescaditos are a salty, sardiny-type fish that turn out to be fun to pop into your mouth whole. As for the ceviche, New York’s meddlesome Health Department doesn’t let restaurants serve true, raw shark, so the fish was cooked (booo!) making it a touch chewy. It tastes basically like most other firm white fish—think swordfish—but by eating the shark bits we did reap vengeance for all those humans killed in Jaws 1 through Jaws 3D.

LAURA: We ended our meal with atol de elote, something you’d order, say, if you were thirsty for corn. It’s a thick, warm drink made of finely ground kernels, sugar and milk. If you believe superstition, making it involves complicated stirring rituals—that’s right, stirring rituals. For starters, if you are in a bad mood, DON’T STIR IT! Salvadorans believe this will lead to bad-tasting atol de elote. Ditto if you’re pregnant. That’s why Adam wasn’t allowed to stir it. (You can never be too safe.)

ADAM: Ever since 2001, the U.S. dollar has been the official currency of El Salvador which, for international banking reasons, retired its earlier denomination, the colon. (Named after the upper part of Laura’s rectum.) Thus, after we finished eating at Izalco, we paid our bill in the El Salvador’s official currency. We’re so authentic!

Eats Deets
Izalco
64-05 Roosevelt Ave (Woodside, Queens)
(718) 533-8373

Ecuador via Jackson Heights, Queens: Eating Laura’s Childhood Pet

LAURA: Around this time 28 years ago, I received a fluffy little guinea pig in my Easter basket. Shortly thereafter, our St. Bernard Dutchess ate it, and I’ve been haunted by the memory ever since. For those who slept through Psychology 101 or aren’t familiar with the life and career path of Jenna Jameson, victims of childhood trauma often unconsciously recreate their traumatic experiences in adulthood. Which is how, I suppose on some level, we ended up eating guinea pig right around Easter time at El Pequeno in Queens.

ADAM: Known as “Cuy” in South America, guinea pigs are an important source of protein in several countries across the Andes Mountains, where cows and swine dare not roam. Families feed the little buggers vegetable scraps and raise them kind of like cattle. (Tiny, tiny cattle.) And unlike bothersome cows that swamp families with more meat then they can quickly consume after slaughter, guinea pigs are thoughtful enough to gird their bones with nothing but the perfect serving size.

LAURA: When Ecuadorians aren’t munching on guinea pigs, they’re using them to diagnose and treat diseases. Shamans use the critter-of-all-trades in healing rituals, a process that involves rubbing the furball over a patient’s body and then slicing it open to “read” its insides, which tells the hippie healer what’s wrong with the patient—not the least of which is the fact that someone is seeking medical advice from a rodent.

ADAM: When our personal guinea meal arrived, its crispy, snarling face was accompanied by a platter piled with fava beans, a ball of fried mashed potatoes, and Ecuadorian corn (both fried and steamed). Although they basically tasted like the corn we’re used to (just maybe a bit blander and mealier), the Ecuadorian corn kernels were super-huge, so obviously we used them to make uproarious beaver impressions.

LAURA: We chowed on our guinea pig’s flesh, ears and brains, a full-body feast indistinguishable from a sewer rat roasted over a garbage fire (we assume). To see us demolish the little guy (and see our ugly taste faces), watch the video above!

Eats Deets
El Pequeno Coffee Shop
86-10 Roosevelt Ave (Jackson Heights, Queens)
(718) 205-7128

LAURA: Our Grecian meal was an early nod to Greek Orthodox Easter, the holiest and most gluttonous of Hellenic holidays, which falls on April 4 this year. The Easter celebration traditionally starts the night before with a church service, followed by a midnight feast, and then repeats itself the next morning with more church and more chewing. Since most Greeks abstain from all animal products during Lent, the spread goes whole hog—or rather, whole lamb—with a spit-roasted baby sheep as its culinary centerpiece. But without the appetites to polish off the whole creature, Adam and I decided to pull an Ozzy Osbourne—and just bite off the head.

ADAM: It’s not on the menu, but we’d heard that Uncle George’s in Astoria, Queens, spit roasts lambs’ noggins every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. They give you the whole thing—face meat, eyeballs and brain—and even pre-split the skull for easy access. We called ahead to reserve a face (we heard they went fast) and brought along our friends Bill and Tom to theoretically help us chow cerebellum.

LAURA: Before our server gave us head, we had some incredible cheeses, both in fried (saganaki) and whipped (tirosalata) incarnations, and a plate of grilled octopus, whose tentacles were as long and girthy as a toddler’s arm. Thankfully, they tasted better than one.

ADAM: Bill got all up on some tentacles, and had a little bite of brain when it arrived (video of him gagging here!) but mostly he and Tom just trained cameras on us (video of us chewing face above!) and made gross-out noises.

LAURA: My Greek friend Menia told us her grandma always said that eating the lamb’s eyeballs makes you smarter and helps you see better, but after swallowing down those squishy orbs, the only thing we saw clearly was how much we hated lamb’s eyeballs.

ADAM: I also almost re-saw everything I’d eaten earlier that day. We washed down the head bits with kokoretsi, another popular Greek Easter dish, which is lamb heart, liver and sweetbreads wrapped up in intestines. And understand: The meat isn’t stuffed into the intestines like a sausage, it’s actually encircled by the intestines like some kind of offal mummy. The taste actually wasn’t bad. The rich meat was heavy on oregano and the roasted intestine covering gave a nice crunch, but, truth be told, I felt kinda guilty eating it. With the lamb’s eyeball already in my stomach, I was basically forcing it to watch me swallow its heart. That’s just disrespectful.

Eats Deets
Uncle George’s Greek Taverna
3319 Broadway, Astoria
(718) 626-0593

ADAM: Previously, our only experience with Brazilian food had been at all-you-can-eat churrascarias, where you gorge on skewers of meat until a cow trundles out of the kitchen to beg for mercy. But while churrascarias have become the most internationally popular form of Brazilian food, they actually only represent a niche segment of the nation’s varied grub. So for our navigeatin’, we focused on finding Feijoada (pronounced Fay-zjwa-da), a bean and meat stew considered to be the country’s national dish.

LAURA: Feijoada is loaded with so many pig parts, it could make a Mario Batali dish look kosher. Traditionally it’s made with salted pork, bacon, smoked ribs, sausage, and a trimmings trifecta of tails, ears and feet. No one is really certain about the history of Feijoada, but a popular theory is that an early form of the bean stew was brought over from Portugal, and then it morphed into a more offal-y version when slaves made it using leftover pork scraps the rich folks tossed out.

ADAM: In the U.S., Feijoada is usually made with better (read: non-ear) cuts of meat because we are pansies. But we called ahead to Malagueta, a well-reviewed Brazilian joint in Astoria, Queens, and they agreed to whip up a batch for us with tails. Cooking Feijoada is an utter pain in the ass because stewing the dry beans and salted meat is a two-day process. For that reason, many Brazilian restaurants usually only offer it on Saturdays.

LAURA: We ordered a ton of appetizers that turned out to be ridiculously good: portobello-stuffed calamari (right), brazilian sausage and Pao de Gueijo, which is the country’s beloved cheese bread.

ADAM: But our main app goal was downing some historic Acarajé, which are black-eyed pea patties fried in palm oil. Ours were topped with grilled shrimp and vatapa, a delicious paste made of coconut milk, cashews, shrimp, and spices.

LAURA: Acarajé was originally brought to Brazil by African slaves and has cultural ties to Candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian religion. It’s famously sold on the streets of Bahia by female vendors known as “baianas,” who wear the clothes of Candomblé priestesses: white hooped skirts, lacy tops, and turbans. FOOD SCANDAL ALERT! In recent times, some vendors have refused to wear the traditional attire and—gasp!—companies have developed instant acarajé powder. Still, the dish is so rich in tradition, it’s been inducted into the Institute of National Historic and Artistic Patrimony, Brazil’s record of important historical and cultural artifacts. So dining on Acarjé is sort of like going to the Smithsonian and eating Abe Lincoln’s top hat.

ADAM: Once the Feijoada arrived, we spooned the stew over rice, then sprinkled on farofa, which is this magical yuca flour seasoned with bits of bacon. Orange slices sit on the side to either eat separately or squeeze over the whole mix. If munching the Acarje was like eating Lincoln’s hat, then the Feijoada was like picking an awesome medley of softened pork bits out of his beard.

Eats Deets
Malagueta
2535 36th Ave., Astoria, Queens
Astoria, NY 11106
(718) 937-4821

ADAM: For our Korea experience, we went in search of sannakji (aka “live octopus”), a plate of raw, still-wriggling tentacles. Admittedly, sannakji is something of a Korean novelty food, but how do you say no to seafood so fresh it’s still squirming? Our guide for this quest was competitive eating champion Crazy Legs Conti, who puts weird things into his mouth professionally. He led us to East Seafood Restaurant in Flushing, Queens—a restaurant, it should be noted, which had been recommended to him by a parking lot attendant.

LAURA: There are three steps to sannakji: 1) chop off tentacles, 2) eat, 3) try not to die. See, the suction cups are still sucking when it’s served, so if you don’t chew those babies long enough, they can stick right to your throat and choke a bitch.

ADAM: Fact: The internet says six people per year die in Korea from being choked on tentacles! Would this meal kill us?!? Let’s watch our mediocre attempt to cut together a home video:

LAURA: So yay, we didn’t die. But neither, it seems, did the octopus. I mean, those tentacles continued to squirm and suction for at least 30 minutes. Which made me wonder what the hell was going on biologically and whether the octopus could feel us gnashing on its legs. So I asked Dr. Emma Creaser, a professor of Marine Biology at Unity College, what was going on and here’s what she said:

“There is a main nerve in each arm called the axial nerve cord, that together with a few other smaller nerves, actually controls the major movement of the arm. Thus, on your dinnerplate, the arm was still sensing and moving. This is a little more complex than your reflex action, when the doctor hits you on the knee with the hammer, but is much less than feeling and interpreting pain. Octopuses have centralized brains that are responsible for learning and other such reactions, that was presumably left in the kitchen. Eventually, the arm ran out of the chemicals it needs to work and so stopped moving.”

ADAM: We also ordered a pair of monsterous raw seafood plates, loaded with freshly murdered abalone, sea squirt, sea cucumber and sea urchin. A quick taste blow by blow: For urchin, you get the scooped out innards, which have a peanut buttery quality to them. Abalone was cut into crunchy round slices—had I not known better, I would have thought I was eating a root vegetable. The sea squirt and sea cucumber were foul beyond words. Before being served, all the restaurant’s seafood sits in these dank, filthy fish tanks. Because the squirt and cucumber flesh have a huge water content, biting into them flushed your mouth with rancid aquarium water. To understand how wretched the experience was, check out our faces while tasting them. (Here’s my Sea Squirt Taste Face. Here’s Laura’s Sea Cucumber Taste Face. You get the idea.)

LAURA: My least favorite thing of the night was probably the giant snails, which tasted like chewing on monster boogers and left a big slime trail when pulled out of the shell.

ADAM: Yeah, besides the octopus, I’d have to say this Korean meal left us feeling a little—wait for it—Kim Jung-ill. (beat) Good night, everybody!

Eats Deets:
East Seafood Restaurant
150-60 Northern Blvd, Queens
(718) 460-1044

LAURA: When I think of Tibet, the first thing that comes to mind is a certain bronzed idol who is spiritually enlightened and is worshiped by millions. That’s right, I think of Richard Gere. So in our journey to find Tibet in the Big Apple, we just had to ask ourselves: “What Would Richard Do?” Turns out, he would haul ass to Jackson Heights and grab a table at the Himalayan Yak Restaurant, a restaurant that serves, as you might suspect, cuisine from the Himalayan region, including Nepali, Indian, and Tibetan dishes. Luckily, the menu was organized according to country, so it was easy to stay focused on our Tibetan task at hand (and mouth).

ADAM: Some pre-eats info: Tibet has an average elevation of 16,000 feet, making it the highest country in the world. Veggies and rice tend not to grow at that elevation, so their food is heavy on meat and dairy. And yak.

LAURA: The high elevation also means that the water boils around 90 degrees Celsius, which makes cooking things like noodles with H20 nearly impossible and explains why you never see Buddhist monks eating Domino’s Pasta in a Bread Bowl.

ADAM: Which is unfortunate because those bread bowls will take you to Nirvana! Um, OK, onto the meal: We started with an app of dhoepa khatsa (below), which stars beef stomach, aka tripe. Cut into strips and doused in a chili sauce, the tripe was kinda like chewing on rubber. But, you know, spicy rubber. Laura totally pushed her bits to the side of her plate to make it look like she’d eaten more than she had.

LAURA: It’s a trick I used growing up when the dog wasn’t around to eat my unwanted scraps! We also started with an order of laphing, a cold “bean jelly,” which in no way should be mistaken for jelly beans. Coated with a mixture of garlic, ginger, red pepper, and soy sauce, it resembled a Jell-O fruit salad your grandma might make, only instead of fruit cocktail, the blind ol’ coot mistakenly dumped in a jar of salsa.

ADAM: To quaff this all down, we ordered a cup of bocha, a traditional Tibetan butter tea. To make it, the Tibetans mix hot tea with salt and melted butter. That warrants repeating: TO MAKE IT THEY MIX TEA WITH MELTED BUTTER.

LAURA: It’s Paula Deen’s favorite drink!

ADAM: It was like drinking movie theater popcorn butter. Until it started to cool and congeal. Then it was like drinking congealed movie theater popcorn butter.

LAURA: For one of our main courses, we had yak sha momo (right), dumplings that starred our favorite shaggy-haired ox. It tasted like delicious lamb meatballs, enveloped in a steamed pouch of dough. This was my favorite dish, because it was the only one that wasn’t overwhelmingly spicy.

ADAM: I preferred our second yak dish, Yak cheley, which is yak tongue, sliced and sauteed with garlic, ginger, onion and bell peppers, then served with a side of tingmo (steamed bread). It had a very Chinese food-y taste. But unlike the yak in the dumplings, the tongue actually tasted like beef. Which means French kissing a yak would probably be delicious.

LAURA: We didn’t have room for dessert, a shame considering ending on a yak note resulted in extremely potent yak burps.

ADAM: Yeah, final revelation: Yak burps smell like yak feet.

Eats Deets:
Himalayan Yak Restaurant
7220 Roosevelt Ave, Queens
(718) 779-1119