Hungry Travels

Here’s a new item to add to the “Restaurants We Need in Westchester” list: Shabu shabu.  I was in Boston over the weekend — on Sunday we ate lunch at Shabu-Zen in Allston.

(The Allston neighborhood of Boston is affectionately [or not so affectionately] referred to as the “Student Ghetto”, for the crush of college students who live there.  It also has some of the best ethnic restaurants in Boston, including Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Thai.  We should be so lucky, huh?)

Shabu shabu, the Japanese version of Asian hot pot cooking, involves cooking thinly sliced meats, seafood and fresh vegetables in a bubbling hot broth set in the middle of the table.  We chose two broths, a regular pork broth and a super spicy red broth blasted with chilies and Sichuan peppercorns.

Armed for battle: soy sauce, soup bowl, soup spoon and strainer for dropping in the meats and vegetables.

Thinly sliced chicken and beef.

Several platters of vegetables.  I love the veggies, especially the enoki mushrooms and watercress.

The seafood platter had a little of everything: shrimp, scallops, salmon, cod and clams.

Here’s how the whole setup looked before we started dropping food into the broth.  Isn’t that pretty?  Well, it’s pretty until you start spilling broth and noodles everywhere.  I’m a messy eater to begin with, and my placemat looked like a disaster area by the time we were done.

The two broths boiling away, filled with meats and veggies. Both were extremely flavorful; the spicy one hits you with a two pronged attack — extreme heat, followed by a numbing of the tongue.  It makes you sweat and your nose run (keep tissues handy), and it sounds unpleasant, but it’s not.  It’s great. You just have to alternate between spicy broth and regular broth so your head doesn’t explode.

I’ve googled “hotpot” and “Shabu shabu” for Westchester and haven’t come up with anything yet, but there’s still hope.

On my drive home, I stopped to visit my friend Veronica in New Haven, who cooked up a great pasta dinner and had me in a food coma the rest of the night.  She also said she was going to serve me a few Australian delicacies.

“You mean like Vegemite?” I asked nervously.

“Nope, not Vegemite.”

Whew.  I’ve been wondering what the hell a Vegemite sandwich is ever since I first heard the song “Down Under” by Men at Work.   Now I know it’s a “yeast extract” spread, kind of the peanut butter equivalent in Australia… and probably an acquired taste.

Veronica presented me with an Australian meat pie.  ”You have to put ketchup on it,” she instructed.  Mmm — like a cross between a meat loaf and an empanada.

Honey with truffles.

And dessert, which for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of.  ”What’s it called?… Lamination?” I asked. “Lamington,” she replied.  It’s really good — a sponge cake filled with a thin layer of jam, and coated in chocolate icing and shredded coconut.

Veronica sent me off with a few lamingtons to take home.  I think I’ll eat them tonight.