Ramen

Before I came to New York, I declared that I would try and eat at every restaurant listed in Time Out's best ramen list. I've failed to a epic degree, mainly because I've fallen love with a couple of places. This week, I had ramen three times, so I feel like I can speak with a bit more authority to be able to talk about Ramen shops in NYC. Here's the lowdown:

1) Ippudo - oh, the love of my life. Well, tied with Xian Famous Food. Eat the Akamaru modern. You must. And the pork buns.
2) Kambi and Minca - they're run by the same people but oh so good and no queue! The charshu is immense here, as it's thick, rolled pork belly. Oh my God, I'm salivating just thinking about it. So good.
3)  Yuji Ramen - this is just a counter-top place above the Whole Foods, but it's uni-miso mazemen is so unctuous. Apparently the noodles are handmade, which probably explains why the portion was so small. Delicious, brothless noodles with a hint of 'tare' (sauce) to coat the noodles. There's a store in Brooklyn now too.
4) Misoya - all the ramens are in a miso base, which made it 100% healthier than any other ramen I've eaten in New York. Pretty darn tasty for a healthy noodle.
5) Zutto - this was good, but I can't remember how good. Somewhere in the middle, I reckon.
6) Momofuku - what is all the fuss about? Fine, though to be fair, I didn't eat the buns, which is what they're really famous for.
7) Rai Rai Ken - I kinda feel like we need to give this another chance, as we went in the summer and went off piste by ordering the lobster ramen. It was just weird.
8) Ramen Setagaya - bland. Bit sad. The noodles were good though.
9) Totto - We tried to go there but it was closed. Sad face.

We arrived on the 18th March 2013, so if I eat at one other ramen shop, I'd have been to 10 in my first year. I think that's a good target. Ramen in the next 19 days? I reckon I could be persuaded.

This Month's Obsession

I don't know if it's just me or whether it's all of us Chan Girls, but I get a bit obsessed with stuff. For example, if I decide that I have to get my hair cut. I have to get it done straight away. I'm pretty sure Middle Chan is the same, as we've talked about this in the past. 

The other day, I really, really wanted to buy some perfume. All perfumes stink on me, so for some reason, I made it my quest to find a perfume that would work with my body, which seems to turn all perfumes rancid. I tracked down a tiny shop in the East Village, which created scents that were compatible with the chemicals in my body. I love my new perfume. 

The obsession du jour is skiing. Since coming back from London in mid-February, we've been once to Hunter Mountain; the Boy went again last weekend (I couldn't because I hurt my ankle with the crappy rental boots); booked to go to go to Windham this Sunday; booked a ski weekend, complete with day off work - that shows dedication - to Killington, a five-hour drive away in Vermont; and as the icing on the cake, went and bought some ski boots today. This is all in the space of two weeks. 

My obsessiveness and 'get shit done' attitude is a bit scary sometimes. I wonder what March's obsession will be.

Meetings Coming Out of My Ears

A symposium. The Clinton Global Initiative Winter Meeting. A trustees meeting. What a week.

A Fine Weekend

This weekend has turned into a bloody marvellous one.

We spent much of it with Aims and Si, first at DBGB for brunch, where I had an obscenely good stout that was so potent at 11% that it was served in a wine glass followed by what was essentially a fry-up accompanied by a croissant. Delish.

We ventured into the raging snow and headed to Uncommons, a board game cafe and had an afternoon of wholesome fun. Admittedly, it's run by enormo board geeks (there were posters about forthcoming real-life role play nights) but it was so fun! A large cuppa with some mates playing 'Scotland Yard' where you have to hunt down one of your crim friends in a transport based strategy game around London; what's there not to love?

Yesterday we headed to Hunter for a day on the slopes. The conditions were perfect and the Boy has upgraded to an intermediate on skis. He's a natural, though I'm convinced he'd be even better on a board. Not sure it counts as a full hobby yet when we've only managed to go twice in two years.

As usual, Billychica's fat calves have proven to be problematic. Ski boots don't sit well with me, pinching and restricting my circulation. Aims was kind and suggested on my last run of the day that we switch. She'd take my skis and I'd board so I could wear her comfy board boots instead. I haven't boarded in 9 years, so nervously said yes.

As I'm tying myself into her board boots at the top of the hill she asks, 'You're alright in duck, right?'

'What the bloody hell is duck?' I ask her. 'I know regular and I know goofy, but what's duck?!'

For non-boarders, duck is not only when you your left foot leads (goofy), but your feet are also splayed rather than both pointing in the same direction. As Aims is taller than me I properly looked like a duck; one that was doing squats.

I spent much of that run on my bum, but remembered the basics about halfway down. It reminded me why boarding is fun. I'm not an amazing skier, but I can go a whole day without falling and am fine on most red runs. To get better, I'd have to make small improvements to finesse my technique. I'm not sure I care enough to do it. I don't care whether I can go down a mogul hill. I'm proficient enough to get down, but without much style.

On a snowboard, I have even less technique or style and I've forgotten how to turn even. In fact, if I tried again, I'd have to relearn how to do a lot. For some reason, that's quite appealing. I miss that early sense of accomplishment in learning something new. Like when you learn a new language and manage to have a conversation with someone for the first time. Having the 'what if...'* when you're on snow is always scary but fun.

Next time, snowboard, I'll only be on my bum three times down a whole slope, you wait.

Today, was relaxed. We were back at the Russian Bath House, where we spent a good four hours. I feel relaxed and fulfilled. What an amazing weekend.

* ... I die (unlikely, admittedly).

Birthday, Blizzard, Boston

I was struggling to think what had happened since coming back to New York and then I remembered; it was my birthday. Happy birthday, Billychica!

It was strange not being able to corral a load of folk to have lunch with me as I would have done back home in the office. I think I had some dodgy leftovers or something. Anyway, the Boy and I had a lovely evening downing $1 oysters and bubbles, before going to a Japanese speakeasy restaurant. The decor was impressive, very laidback with an indoor garden, and there couldn't have been more than 25 in the whole place at any one time. The food was average, but the kobe beef dishes, including the sliders and sashimi was delicious. I want more.

Then it was time for my present. As I was opening up the enormous parcel, I thought I saw the leg of what looked like a camping table. 'Is it a table?' I asked. Because obviously, that what we need in our NY apartment.

In fact, it was the most beautiful photo of the Wall Street Bull in the blizzard, which we had seen in the Holiday Market. It's so arresting. From afar, it's like you're sitting in a coffee shop, watching it prepare to come at you. Up close, you're in the midst of the snowstorm, trying to see everything in the picture, but having trouble taking it all in. It's beautiful. Thank you, kid.

In other news, we are in the midst of a snow blizzard. Our upteemth in a handful of days. I was cursing the Boy, as I tried to wade through the rivers of slush. There are parts where it's so deep that you have to walk down the street before you can cross onto the pavement. Now this is bad weather, people.

I am sitting on a train, three hours into a five-hour journey on my way to a meeting in Boston on Valentine's Day. Thank goodness I don't have a romantic bone in my body. Having said that, I may not make it to Valentine's Day, as I might die of boredom before the train reaches its final destination. At least the Boy wouldn't need to wash my mountain of laundry that I've strewn across the living room floor.

A Stealth Visit

I have a confession. I was in the UK last week and hardly told a soul. I'm so sorry, but I found our last trip home super stressful. I saw lots of folk but didn't feel like I got to properly catch up with anyone. I was just a bad friend.

So on this work trip, I just went to work, saw the fam - on both sides - and the Kids in Crofton Park. I didn't stay anywhere for more than two days in a row, so it was typically hectic but at least I had some 'quality time' with a few people, so I don't feel so awful.

Here's the lowdown of the trip:

Food
As good as the food is here, the Vietnamese and Turkish food isn't as good as in London. Consequently, I had Vietnamese three times (pho twice). I only had Turkish food once, but the lamb shish I had lived up to expectations. The other thing I ate the most was good ol' fish and chips, which I had three times - fat cow!

A Small Town
My friend, S, is moving back to Oz and was due to come out dinner on Chinese New Year's Eve with the Kids and my sisters. Unfortunately, she was poorly so couldn't make it. Miraculously, we bumped into each other by Bank station the following day. How crazy is that? I hardly ever take that route to work, as it takes way longer than taking the orange line, but I guess it was fate. I also bumped into a couple of other folk, but that was by HOP so less interesting.

Literally a Small Town
The thing that really struck me going home this time was how small everything is. The tubes are small; the platforms are small; the roads are small. I was impressed by the skill of the London bus drivers as they manouevred their mega-buses through tiny gaps, but annoyed by how close people were standing next to me. (I appreciate that's because there's not much space).

But Then Again...
London is also a big town, most evident when I travelled from sister, C's house to sister, J's house on a 45-minute bus ride followed by a journey involving a replacement bus service from Clapham Common up to Old Street, and rounding the evening off with a bus then train journey down to Crofton Park. Aside from the bus and train journeys, all journeys on foot seemed to take 15 minutes. I'd forgotten how much time you have to spend travelling in London.

Working from Home
The purpose of my trip home was for an all-staff, two-day offsite in Limehouse. Most of my colleagues that also work remotely said similar things to me; we were struggling with being back in the office and interacting with so many people. I really struggled with the over stimulation and was relieved to have a few hours by myself at the gym. It might also have been because I was doing something normal and mundane that made me feel better. A little bit less like I'm a tourist or observer and a bit more connected to London life.

Final Day
I had a great last day, which was great and bad. I had a full English at a local café. The sun was shining and the Kids were all on form. Good food, good company, great atmosphere. It made my departure bittersweet.

So long London, I'll be home soon.