Shopping in the Italian Market (Don’t Let the Name Fool You)

For the past two and a half years, I have had the immense pleasure of living in what I think is the best neighborhood in the city: the Italian Market.  This area spreads (roughly) from 9^th and Fitzwater Streets southward to 9^th and Reed Streets (also where Passyunk intersects 9th).  I have never seen anything like it in my life.  Not only is 9^th Street lined with outdoor vendors, many of whom open every day (though some close in inclement weather), but also a slew of delicious and authentic shops.  In this half-mile or so stretch of 9^th Street, a shopper can find just about any fruit or vegetable from peppers and onions to cactus and sugar cane.  The southern end of the market is dominated by Latino vendors (mostly Mexican), and their stands tend to have even more unusual produce like different types of peppers, plantains, and some fruits I still cannot identify.  My friends and I sometimes joke that some of this produce fell off the back of a truck.  Frankly, it just might have.  But it's more than produce.  You can also find fish of many varieties being sold right on the sidewalk. Butcher shops with neon signs punctuate almost every block.  There are a couple of spice stores, bakeries, and stores filled with housewares, paper goods, and anything else you find on your shopping list.

Between and behind the produce stands are a number of other shops.  There are butchers (DiAngelo Brothers, Espositos, and more) that sell every type and cut of meat, coffee shops specializing in thick, strong Italian espresso, and specialty ethnic markets.  DiBruno Brothers (the original) is right on 9^th Street, along side its main competitor Claudio’s.  Both sell a huge assortment of cheeses from around the world, plus house-cured meats like salami and pepperoni.  In both of these stores you can find Italian specialty goods.  Claudio's, being a bit bigger, has a rather larger selection.  Around the holidays, panettone is displayed in the windows in several varieties.  Pasta of every shape imaginable can be found here-- that is if you don't instead go straight to Talluto's or Superior Pasta Co. for fresh, hand cut pasta.  Canned tomatoes and olive oil line the shelves (especially in Claudio’s) in over a dozen varieties.  Dried beans, cured olives and canned fish likewise fill the shelves in number.  House-made ricotta and mozzarella are locally famous for their quality.

Across 9^th Street, the Mexican counterparts to Claudio’s and DiBrunos have staked their claim to the historic market.  Tortilleria San Roman makes fantastic, fresh pressed corn tortillas right behind the counter.  For only $2 you can buy a kilogram (an approximate 6 inch stack) of hot, soft tortillas, and on the weekends, they sell blue corn varieties too.  Though small, the tortilleria also sells a variety of sodas, sauces, and shelf-stable goods.  One block north is another great Mexican market.  Though I have stopped here occasionally for milk or eggs, their top offering is the house-made tamales.  Not only are they tasty and inexpensive, but also quite authentic.  South of Washington Avenue, the Italian Market truly loses its Italian claim.  South of Washington, 9^th Street’s market is vastly Mexican, while Washington Avenue itself is home to numerous Vietnamese supermarkets, restaurants and miscellaneous establishments.

For those looking to enjoy karaoke, pho, or banh mi, the Vietnamese choices are seemingly infinite. Most signs are posted in both English and Vietnamese.  Within the restaurants, it is common to find to-go offerings along side sit-down dining options.  There are packaged sweets and gelatinized, molded items that remain a mystery to me.  Most places serve Vietnamese-style coffee, made with sweetened

condensed milk.  If you would rather sit down, do not miss a steaming hot bowl of pho.  Expect tea at the table and a menu printed in both languages.  A little utensil caddy is typically placed on the table and holds chopsticks, Vietnamese-style soupspoons and napkins.  Other staples are hot chili sauce, limes and loose basil leaves.

On the other hand, if its tacos you seek, the head south rather than east or west.  But do not expect the choice to be any easier.  Prima Taquieria and Taqueria Veracruzana are both authentic go-tos right on the corner.  The more authentic the restaurant, the more Spanish (and less English) you will encounter.  But head further down 9^th and the options seem only to multiply.  And its not just restaurants.  Right before you reach the famous Geno’s steaks, a live poultry market sits right across the street.  Pigeons and chickens squawk through the day and the odor permeates the entire side of the block at night.  On Geno’s side of the street you can find a tiny, but extensive import market.  Here a shopper can hope to find some of the more unusual Mexican ingredients like crickets and huitlacoche (corn smut) mixed in among tall candles portraying the Virgin Mary. 

I cannot say my shopping trip was a single adventure, but rather a collection of experiences.  Living in the neighborhood has allowed me more than a single visit.  Instead I have become intimately familiar with the diverse world that is known (almost a misnomer now) as the Italian Market.

Sunday Dinner: Indian Style

Every Sunday during what I like to call “HBO Season” (ie: approximately January through June), my roommate, my friends, and I get together to watch quality television and share a themed, homemade meal.  Some of our past themes have included sandwiches, garlic, breakfast for dinner, food from your homeland, Italian, and Moroccan.  Given that we are all reasonably good cooks, these dinners are often the best of the whole week. 

A couple of weeks ago we chose Indian food.  Whenever we embrace an ethnic food theme, we do our best to create authentic and delicious dishes.  Indian food night was no exception!  I went straight to my Indian cookbooks—one by Madhur Jaffrey (a famous Indian-American chef) and the other by Julie Sahni.  However, after I had bookmarked half a dozen different dishes, I realized that this decision would be tougher than I thought. 

My roommate Ben volunteered to get naan.  Though vital to the meal, his contribution was simple and required minimal preparation.  My friend Virginia was having much the same problem I was.  Eventually we both sat down and tried to make a concise list of what we thought was essential to our Indian meal.  In the end, we settled on a potato dish (Virignia), basmati rice (me), something made with beans or lentils (Virginia), and an aromatic vegetable dish (me). 

I think the key to good, authentic Indian food is a combination of ingredients (especially spices) and techniques.  For instance, while other rices can be substituted, basmati is the appropriate and best choice.  Common vegetables used in Indian cooking include tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, and greens.  I ended up picking eggplant as my star ingredient.  After much deliberating I picked a dish of fire-roasted eggplant stewed in a spiced tomato sauce.  First I broiled the eggplant until the skin was blistered.  I then let it cool while I prepared the sauce.  As with many Indian recipes, this one called for a long list of spices including cumin, coriander, fenugreek, and turmeric in addition to onions, garlic, and ginger.  These all worked together in beautiful unison to create a flavorful sauce.  By the time it was prepared the eggplant was cool.  I peeled it and chopped it into approximate 1” cubes.  I added the eggplant into the tomato sauce along with peas.  After another 15 or 20 minutes of simmering, the dish was ready. I covered the pan and turned the heat to low to keep it warm and ready for service.

Since I finished up early, I also threw together a quick raita of yogurt and diced cucumber.  Virginia ended up making a dish of pan fried potatoes with black mustard seeds, onions and garlic.  She also brought incredible mung bean pancakes.  They were comprised of soaked, pureed mung beans, garlic, turmeric, and herbs (parsley I think).  The pancakes were hearty yet delicious, and quite different from any I had eaten before.  All together it made for a quite complete meal.  The only thing that was missing was a mango lassi to wash it all down.  Alas, I had to save something for next time!

My First Passover Seder

My roommate Ben and I have lived together for about two and a half years.  We were “Craigslist randoms,” as we like to tell people, meaning that we found each other through a classified ad and a simple twist of fate.  Beyond the apartment itself, Ben and I share a number of interests.  We are both lovers of quality food, and sacrifice our time and money to make our eating experiences special. 

One thing Ben and I do not share is our religious background.  While I was raised Roman Catholic (though perhaps loosely so), he was raised Jewish.  Though neither of us identifies with our respective religious backgrounds on a personal level, the holidays and traditions die hard.  Further, as I understand it, Ben’s parents are relatively devout Jews.  So, Ben observes all of the major Jewish holidays with them. 

For whatever reason, though Ben and I have been amiable, well-matched roommates for over two and a half years, I have never received an invitation to any of the Jewish high holidays.  Needless to say, when I received an invitation to Passover this spring, I immediately said yes.  Not only would this be my first Passover with Ben’s family.  It was also my first Passover ever.  Despite reading about the celebration and asking Ben a whole host of questions (What does your family serve? What can I bring? How long is it? What is the appropriate attire?) I could not quite picture what this holiday would be like.

I arrived at Ben’s parent’s house (which is gorgeous, by the way, and just a couple of blocks off Rittenhouse Square Park) at 6 o’clock.  After rushing home from class, I had agonized a bit about which dress to wear.  Striking a balance between nice, spring-like, and subtly conservative is difficult when you have only a handful of dresses in your closet.  I settled on one, grabbed the orchid I had picked out for his parents (my thinking being that plants are lasting, spring-like, and generally welcomed regardless of religion or tradition), hailed a cab, and managed to arrive just on time. 

 His family greeted me warmly.  Though I had met Ben’s twin brother twice and his brother-in-law once, everyone else was a new face.  I was introduced to his parents, his sister and older brother, his wide-eyed nephew, and half a dozen or so family friends.  For the next hour, we waited for others to arrive, exchanged small talk, and the family posed for a couple of photos.  Around 7 we sat down to dinner.  The table was set beautifully.  Each place setting was equipped with plates and silverware, a glass each for water and wine, and a prayer book (left).  I sat between Ben and his older brother, both of whom were helpful with the traditions and joked frequently about the near-chaos of holidays.

We started by reading from the prayer book. As is typical with the Hebrew language, the book was bound on the right hand side.  Inside, it told the story of Passover.  Ben’s parents led the ceremony.  It was a combination of readings, songs (all in Hebrew), and prayers.  I did not sing any songs, as I do not know Hebrew.  However, the readings were much more inclusive for me.  We went all around the table and took turns reading pieces of the Passover story.  Ben’s mom periodically chimed in extra little bits of information about the Jewish people and the Passover tradition.  Ben’s dad was more lighthearted and joked quite a bit.  All throughout, his siblings made silly comments about traditions they found odd or unnecessary. 

When we arrived at the part that describes the Seder plate (Ben's family's was very modern, pictured to the top / right), the dinner became even more interactive.  Each item was described and its symbolism was explained.  The bitter herbs (in this case, parsley—not actually all that bitter) were passed around and each of us dipped them in salt water.  We also all passed around a plate of sliced, hard-boiled eggs.  Ben forced some Gefilte fish onto my plate as well (I am all for cultural openness, but grey, congealed fish product is not something I like very much).  The family had various types of Matzo (some of which was identified as “designer matzo” from Metropolitan Bakery). 

When the prayers were done (about 40 minutes after sitting down), the true meal began. Of course no leavened bread was served.  Ben and each of his siblings had made a dish.  There was a chicken dish, lamb, potatoes, salad, and even more Matzo.  His mom explained that brisket is more typical, but their family had grown tired of it.  For dessert (for which I had almost no room), there was both lemon mousse and flourless chocolate cake.  After dinner there were a couple more prayers.  These prayers went much faster.  By this point everyone was full, sleepy, and tired of sitting. 

I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to share this experience with my roommate and his family.  It was truly unlike any ceremony I had ever attended.  I loved learning about the Jewish Passover traditions, eating the food, hearing the prayers and being part of it all. 

Bun Cha? Boo-Yah!

First thing's first: What is bun cha? According to Wikipedia, it is "a Vietnamese dish of grilled pork and noodle... served with grilled fatty pork (cha) over a plate of white rice noodle (bún) and herbs with a side dish of dipping sauce."

Next: How is it that bun cha came into my life? Well, this past October my roommate Ben, bored with unemployment and itching to travel, decided to visit to Vietnam. He was abroad for almost two months.  Ben lived in Hanoi for about a month, volunteering at the local offices of an international organization. As a cultural adventurist and die-hard foodie (something we share), he made local ingredients, traditions, dishes and preparations part of his life in Hanoi.

When he came back in November, one of the first things we talked about was the food.  Ben had discovered many novel and delicious fruits.  He told me how he saw barbecued dog for sale on the street.  And gave a comprehensive breakdown of the bar culture in Hanoi.  Along with the souvenirs, assorted handicrafts, specialty coffee, and handmade tapestries, Ben brought back some killer recipes.

The most recently re-explored of these was bun cha!

Ben described it as a noodle dish, served with a variety of herbs, grilled pork belly, little pork meatballs, pickled vegetables and a flavorful sauce/broth.  We built the dish piece by piece.  First were the noodles.  We used the traditional rice noodles, which are very easy to prepare.  Ben prepared the pork belly by searing and then baking it.  After, he sliced it thinly into pieces.  Ben also took charge of the meatballs.  I helped him shape the seasoned, ground pork into fat little discs, then transferred them to the fry pan, where they sizzled away for about 5 minutes per side.  By this point, our apartment was swimming in the aromas of pork fat. And the fun had just begun!

As Ben fried up the meatballs, I prepared the pickles (see photo on the left).  I chose radishes, both for their freshness and geographic ubiquity.  I sliced them as thinly as possible without the help of a mandolin.  Into the bowl went my sliced radishes, white vinegar, sugar, salt, and water.  I actually used (loosely) Martha Stewart’s recipe for quick pickled radishes—clearly not for the authenticity, but having not planned ahead, my radishes had hours, not days to pickle.  Thirty minutes later, they were ready to go! 

The sauce was basically just a watered down fish sauce.  Rather than serving it on the side, we chose to save the dishes and spoon the sauce right over the bun cha.  To build the dish, the noodles went on the bottom.  On top we piled pork belly, meatballs, pickled radish, and lots of herbs.  The herbs were a combination of known and novel: mint, culantro, Thai basil, perilla (pictured on the right).  They worked wonderfully together.  The final touches were a couple spoonfuls of fish sauce broth and (for the spice lovers) a squirt of Sriracha. 

While everything tasted great separately, the combination was even better than I had expected.  A handful of my friends joined us for dinner, and I think we all went back for seconds (and some people went for thirds).  Food itself can never replace travel and cultural immersion.  However, I felt that the ingredients in my bowl did have a certain authentic quality for which I couldn’t help but be grateful.