This week's section has a few particularly interesting tidbits:
-- My beloved Cambodian Cuisine, formerly located across the street from my apartment in Brooklyn (right), is facing some serious headaches as the owner tries to reopen on the Upper East Side.
On Thursday, Jerry Ley did what he has done on most days for more than two years: he watched his dream of transplanting his Cambodian restaurant to East 93rd Street in Manhattan move a little further out of reach. He then did what he has had to do a lot lately: he hit up a friend, this time a Wall Street accountant, for a $5,000 loan.-- I should probably prepare for some long lines when I make my daily pilgramage to GoGo Curry. The secret is out about this quirky Japanese joint in the garment district, which serves up delicious fried pork and chicken cutlets, rice, and a mysterious brown sauce that bears little to no resemblence to Indian curry but is strangely delcious. The Times tries to describe it:
Mr. Ley, 54, admittedly is a broken man. He is heavy-hearted as he ticks off his debts in a defeated voice. He owes $866,000 to various banks, $144,000 to a friend and co-worker who took out a second mortgage on her home, and more than $200,000 to friends and relatives who contributed smaller sums at zero interest.
The sauce is the one constant ingredient in Japanese curry (often rendered as kare). At Go! Go!, it is thicker than gloop and too loose to be called sludge, but both of those terms came to mind when I was considering its texture.
There’s a meaty, beany quality to its flavor, and sweetness around the periphery of it. It tastes much more like something that is reconstituted than something that is cooked. Beguiling might be the way to describe it: it bewitches with its inscrutable foreignness, its unapologetic Japanese-ness, its “I guess fried food does taste good covered in this sticky stuff”-ness.
-- On the subway to work this morning, I was practically drooling when I read this recipe for tomato paella. And, since I naturally have saffron, arborio rice and Spanish paprika on hand at all times, I'm fixing to make this bad boy the minute I get home tonight. The only problem? My wife doesn't like cooked tomatos. So if anyone's hungry, come on over. Dinner is 8-ish.