Yet another food blog?

I know what you’re thinking: “what does this wannabe food writer/critic/poet/photographer/general bon vivant” have to say that’s new and interesting about food, poetry, life, etc.”

The answer: probably not as much as you’d like.

After all, how could anyone write more than a piss-poor ode to stir-fry after the sublime, lyrical, transcendent food writing of Jonathan Gold?

I certainly can’t; nor do I want to.

What I want to do is write to fill a need that’s been missing from my life for the better part of a year: creativity.

I haven’t been writing much of anything lately – outside of freelance copy/content jobs on topics as scintillating as “the best time to buy a house during a recession.”

Needless to say, I need more salt, spice, & all-around flavor in my writing.

I’m bored. And when I’m bored, I’m discontent. And when I’m discontent, I’m as much fun to be around as a pastry chef at 4 AM before the cinnamon roll onslaught known as Sunday brunch.

You get the idea.

As a result, I want this blog to focus on three things that really motivate me: food, poetry, and our (relatively) new home in Asheville, NC, one of the food capitals of the country.

Better yet, I want this blog to focus on food poetry and the poetry-as-food served in the numerous exciting restaurants and eateries in this eclectic, art-driven city.

For far too long, I haven’t adequately captured what I feel as I eat in this vibrant culinary scene tucked away in the bountiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.

I hope that my writing excites me and, hopefully, you, too.

So please: take a seat and order a cocktail. Share a small plate. Smell the thyme on the table. And thanks a ton for reading.

-Josh

Restaurant #1: Ukiah

Address: 121 Biltmore, Avenue, Asheville, NC

Vibe: Japanese-American tapas-style fusion. Modern, chic, poetic interior befitting a place named “haiku” spelled backwards.

Overall experience: Absolutely fantastic

Erica and I have lived in Asheville for almost a year and a half now, and while we’ve eaten at several restaurants, I’ve just now started documenting them. I know, I don’t what’s taken me so long, either. Please read my first post for somewhat of an explanation.

I say this to build my excitement for the first restaurant I’m going to cover in this blog: a Japanese-American fusion restaurant appropriately named Ukiah.

After all, in a blog about food & poetry, how could I not begin with a restaurant named after a poetic form spelled backwards?

To that extent, a few words about the name. I must admit I didn’t catch the name at first. (Perhaps you, dear reader, have a keener eye for word play than I).

I must also admit that, at first, I found the name silly. Of course, Asheville, “city of the ultra-hip, American Spirit (yellow)-smoking counterculture contingent” would feature a restaurant named after a poetic form spelled backwards. I suppose it’s not cool enough to name your spot after a 13th century Japanese poetic form; one must also spell it in reverse.

That said, I found nothing silly about the experience. In fact, our dining experience far exceeded our expectations. And we had expectations as large as the beech mushroom tempura turned out to be. More on that later.

Given the name, it’s only fitting I try my hand at a haiku. (Mind you, I haven’t written a haiku since, probably, the sixth grade, so if the following haiku insults your sensibilities, feel free to never set eyes on this blog again – I wouldn’t blame you). Here goes:

In a Wagyu world

Don’t forget the fried mushrooms,

Simple tastes of earth.

If you’re still reading this post following that poor-man’s Basho, I commend you. Many thanks.

I’ll explain the significance (or lack thereof?) of this haiku later, but for now, know that it contains the menu item that most excited me.

In terms of Ukiah’s aesthetic, the restaurant is as beautiful and poetically balanced as the name/food.

Clad in wood and featuring a well-stocked central bar, the main dining room evokes what I have to imagine is the vibe of a Japanese soul food restaurant catering to Americans in a foodie hub like Tokyo: elegant and refined, with a touch of home embodied in both the smokiness of the wood and of the food.

Fortunately, Erica and I were seated at a two-top right next to the bar and in full view of the kitchen. Of all the fantastic spots to sit in a restaurant, the bar-kitchen viewing axis has to be my favorite. One can see chaos becoming order and order becoming chaos every time one lifts up their head. Plus, as a former food runner/server, I sympathize with my culinary brethren each time they enter and exit the kitchen during a rush. I’ve been there, and I appreciate you.

After sitting down, we ordered cocktails every bit as vibrant as the classic hip-hop spinning from the dining room’s sound system.

My cocktail was a refreshing, slightly smoky concoction called the “So Fresh and So Green” (points most definitely awarded for the OutKast pun), an incredibly balanced potion of:

• Hendricks gin
• Smoked green pea ginger
• Scallion tincture + lemon

In addition to its light earthy taste, the cocktail’s verdant hue contributed to its appeal (what can I say? I love green drinks):

Erica went with the “Purple Rain,” a magically-purple shiso-ube infused sweet potato Shochu (more on this later) mixed with dry curacao, lemon, and egg writes. It was aromatic and frothy, packing a subtle sweetness from the sweet potato. And it was damn delicious.

At this point, I suppose it’s fitting to dive into what we shared:

1st tapas – Beech Mushroom Tempura

• An incredibly beautiful bundle of beech mushrooms nestled atop a smear of “Tokyo ranch” and garnished with onion ash to add a bit more earthiness to the dish. This was perhaps our favorite plate on the menu – and rightfully so; I couldn’t tell what I appreciated more: the taste or the alienness of the presentation.

Second tapas – Salmon Sashimi

• Four pieces of salmon sashimi looking succulent in a bowl of wasabi soy broth and garnished with scallions.

3rd tapas – Crispy Pork Bao

• I’m a sucker for bao and these crispy, crunchy pillows of heaven didn’t disappoint. Two delicious bao buns filled with a generous slice of pork belly, pickle (absolutely essential), and smear of smoked chili aioli.

Interlude: “Way of the Warrior” Sake

• Between sake and Newtonian physics, I have a better grasp on Newtonian physics. And I’m an English major, which should tell you how much I know about sake. “Way of the Warrior” is a Ginjo Genshu Bushido sake. It’s slightly sweet and aromatic, with a touch of heat on the finish. And it will light you up if you’re not careful (in the most pleasant ways possible).

4th tapas – Wagyu Sticks

• Perfectly-seared, medium-rare cuts of Wagyu beef served with sea salt, shiso chimichurri, yuzu kosho, and wasabi. The meat is exceedingly flavorful. With a pinch of sea salt, it explodes with all of the virtues befitting one of the planet’s tastiest meats.

5th tapas – Sea Bass

• Two large portions of sea bass soaking in a brown butter ponzu, served with grilled lemon and sea salt.

6th tapas – BBQ Baby Carrots

• Six (?) charred baby carrots placed atop a smear of smoked tofu and Korean chili vinaigrette. If I had any major criticism about Ukiah, it is firmly contained in this dish. It’s not that the carrots weren’t flavorful; they radiated a smoky, earthy quality that makes me return to carrots time and again. It’s just that the smoked tofu didn’t give me the flavor punch I was looking for; in other words, it was relatively bland.

But the BBQ Baby Carrots was the only dish that was slightly uninspiring. Everything else reminded me why I enjoy eating tapas-style in the first place: the poeticism of the food, and the communal act of sharing small plates that contain just enough grub to stabilize you until the next two, three, four, or ten small plates hit your table.

At some point, I’ll make it back to try the Pork Belly Ramen and Duck Hot Pot. Until then, I’ll stay hungry for the Beech Mushroom Tempura.

Restaurant #2: Little Chango

134 Coxe Ave. Asheville, NC 28801

Quietly nestled in Asheville’s South Slope neighborhood, Little Chango sits among the most popular, boisterous breweries2  in Beer City. It’s one of those places that, if you weren’t hungry for Puerto Rican-style arepas and didn’t have a gastronomical bone in your body, you’d bypass for the overcrowded Wicked Weed Funkatorium across the street. It’s also become one of my favorite places to grab lunch in the city.

Named after the Puerto Rican slang for the gregarious, voracious grackle, Little Chango specializes in arepas that are deceptively filling. Before visiting Little Chango, I’d never had the magical maize patty that constitutes an arepa. Now I’m hooked. Topped with everything from pork shoulder to chicken salad to black beans to shredded flank steak, arepas are like clouds of corn meal that have one of the most sensual, mouth-melting textures I’ve ever tried. Soft doesn’t do the texture justice. Little Chango’s arepas are the platonic ideal of soft. The Ur-soft.

Little Chango’s menu is as quaint, yet vibrant, as the restaurant’s yucca-yellow brick. I recommend the Pernil, an arepa topped with adobo-seasoned pork shoulder, pickled cabbage, onions, chili de arbol sauce, and a peony-pink sauce appropriately called “Fancy Pink Sauce.” Like most things, I underestimated the Pernil’s power when I first saw it; it’s small and compact. However, the arepa fills you up in ways I cannot quite comprehend.

For a side, I recommend the yucca fries, which are thick and yellow and lightly salted, and served with Fancy Pink Sauce. The mamposteao, Puerto Rican-style rice and beans, is also worth a try.

What I love most about good restaurants is that they know what they are. Little Chango knows it’s in the mounted arepas business, and it knows it’s at the top of its game. Like the grackle it’s named after, Little Chango announces itself loudly and proudly as one of the best restaurants in Asheville.