Turning people on to ethnic food…one story at a time.
Shaxian Snacks is a worldwide restaurant chain serving traditional street snacks from the Shaxian region of China’s Fujian Province that’s definitely worth a try if you’re unfamiliar with the cuisine. This outpost had been open for only five days when I ventured in; I found it packed and I took that as a sign that it might be a gem perfect for my Ethnic Eats in Elmhurst ethnojunket.

Peanuts figure into this cuisine and their presence was clearly manifested in the four dishes that I sampled.

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Shaxian Steamed Dumplings (zheng jiao) with a unique filling, artistically pleated and said to look like little mice. A distinctive peanut sauce is on the side – don’t think dilute Western peanut butter; this is the real deal.

A squeak, I mean a peek inside.

Wontons with Peanut Butter. Not as pretty but certainly tasty, these have an unusual filling made from condensed pork that’s completely unlike the first group. Slathered in peanut sauce.

Shaxian Peanut Butter Noodle. Egg Noodles (rice noodles are also available) with a modest topping of pork, onion, and pepper. The peanut sauce is on the bottom this time.

Shredded Pork & Pickled Mustard Greens with Noodles. Just for kicks, I tried another variant on egg noodles, this time with pickled mustard greens on top, to compare and contrast. Peanut sauce on the bottom of course.

I selected these four “Special Snacks” in order to decide which might be best in the context of the wide variety of flavors we enjoy on my Elmhurst food tour and a champion did emerge.

Want to know which? Only one way to find out: Join me on my Ethnic Eats in Elmhurst ethnojunket and savor the winner!

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A couple of posts ago, I wrote about a recent visit to Queens in search of more good eats for my “Snacking in Flushing – The Best of the Best” ethnojunket. I always expect the unexpected but that generally applies to unusual finds in local ethnic markets. I must admit, however, that I was unprepared for this experience.

Huang Kung Fu is a relatively new stall in the Food Hall at Queens Crossing. The menu and signage featured tempting photos of crispy fried chicken and pork dishes. Totally works for me.

“Super Crispy Pork” grabbed my attention but something called “Chicken Soft Bones” piqued my curiosity. Soft bones? A colorful translation perhaps? An enigmatic metaphor? I don’t have to tell you what I ordered.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that I should have taken the name quite literally. Each little nugget consisted primarily of a piece of cartilage with a bit of meat attached. I guess some folks don’t mind gnawing on cartilage in every single bite; some even claim that “it’s good for you.” But I was ill-equipped for the challenge. It reminded me of the routine by Monty Python’s Flying Circus about Crunchy Frog. Those of you who are old enough to remember that classic brilliant television sketch will understand immediately. For those of you who have yet to suffer daily joint pain, here’s a link.

I blame myself. I was certainly warned. But the overall flavor was tasty and I do love a good fried meaty crunch so I will assuredly make a return visit, perhaps to sample that pork. Definitely. No bones about it.

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If you read me, you know that one of the ethnojunkets I offer is “Exploring Eastern European Food in Little Odessa,” named for the port city on the Black Sea in southern Ukraine. In the latter half of the last century, many Odessites who emigrated to the US came to Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach neighborhood, hence the name.

You also know that I developed a distinct section of my website dedicated to Ukraine and its cuisine after Russia’s invasion in February, 2022 – not their first.

If you’ve visited that corner of my website, you know that it’s dedicated to my friend Olya who lives in Ukraine and endures the consequences of the war on a daily basis. To me, Olya represents all the brave, stalwart, resilient, heroic, beautiful people of Ukraine. She knows that my heart is steadfastly with Ukraine.

And if you’ve explored my epic post about ethnic ice cream, you’ve read that Lasunka (Ласунка) is the leading brand of ice cream in Ukraine.

Now, why am I telling you all this?

Because if you knit all of these threads together, you’ll understand why I nearly broke into tears of joy when I discovered this ice cream product from Lasunka on my Little Odessa tour. Olya is undoubtedly familiar with the brand and I’m sure she’ll be pleased knowing that we have this very special treat in the US.

Naturally, I took these photos on Brighton Beach in Little Odessa.

(Or so goes the first line of the song.)

As is my gratifying habit, I was scanning Roosevelt Ave in search of anything new on the scene that might belong in my Flushing ethnojunket. Lining the avenue is an extensive stretch of Chinese markets, restaurants, teashops and bakeries, punctuated by streetside vendors offering fried dumplings, buns, skewers, a duck anatomy course (wings, necks – literally heads to feet), a shop dedicated to Spanish Ibérico ham…wait, what?

Obviously, I had to investigate. Turns out, House of Ibérico is owned by a Chinese gentleman, but the hams are definitely of Spanish provenance. “Upscale” doesn’t begin to do the business justice.

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I purchased one of the products on display, dry-cured Fermín Serrano Loin from acorn-fed pigs: gossamer thin slices of tender ham, not at all spicy despite my having been cautioned, savory but not salty, almost nutty, and as tasty as it was expensive.

So I cobbled together a platter of the sophisticated meat, some Spanish cheese, slices of fresh plum, along with bread and fig jam, and since the second line of the song is “One of these things just doesn’t belong,” I selected a Middle Eastern spicy preserved lemon to adorn the center of the plate. Bullseye!

Luncheon is served!

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

When the benevolent folks at your local Victory Garden give you freshly harvested gooseberries, red raspberries, and champagne currants, make clafoutis.

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Clafoutis is a French dessert (or a righteous breakfast 😉) that occupies the territory midway between a baked custard and bread pudding.

The pronunciation is kla foo tee: disregard the final S and execute each syllable with equal stress, à la mode française.

By the way, if you need a good laugh (and who doesn’t these days?) go to Google and type in “pronounce clafoutis” and listen to it confidently mangle the word as kluh fau tuhs. Talk about executing syllables. You can’t make this stuff up.

It’s customarily made with black cherries or rhubarb, but today’s combination of fruit was the berries! (Sorry, not sorry.) Best of all, the dish couldn’t be easier to prepare. Essentially, eggs, half & half, sugar and almond extract go into a blender for a couple of minutes, flour is mixed in, and the batter is poured into a hot, generously buttered baking dish. Add the fruit (some recipes pour the batter over the fruit), bake until golden brown and puffy, et voilà!

Next time: Rhubarb!

The story began here:

Every August, as a routinely flushed, overheated child, I would join in chorus with my perspiring cohorts, boisterously importuning, “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!” Little did I realize that rather than conjuring dessert, I was conjugating it and probably laying the groundwork for a lifetime of fascination with foreign languages and world food.

We lived in close proximity to one of the best dairies in town; it was known for its wide assortment of locally produced natural flavors, certainly sufficient in number and variety to satisfy any palate. Perhaps my obsession with offbeat ice cream flavors is rooted in my frustration with my father’s return home from work, invariably bearing the same kind of ice cream as the last time, Neapolitan. Neapolitan, again. My pleas to try a different flavor – just once? please? – consistently fell on deaf ears. “Neapolitan is chocolate, strawberry and vanilla. That’s three flavors right there. If you don’t want it, don’t eat it.” Some kids’ idea of rebellion involved smoking behind the garage; mine was to tuck into a bowl of Rum Raisin….

There’s lots more to the story, of course. Click here to get the full scoop! 🍨

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Let’s clarify something at the outset: a kumquat is a citrus fruit that looks like a miniature oblate orange. These, however, are loquats. No relation.

Approximately two inches long and light orange inside and out, each sweet loquat contains about three seeds. Its flavor depends on the specific cultivar, but the ones we get around here are distinctive and fairly consistent.

You can certainly consume the skin but it doesn’t have much flavor and the texture is nothing special, so since it’s easy to peel (no special equipment necessary) I tend to discard it.

Many years ago, I created a 33-slide PowerPoint presentation called the Chinatown Fruit Report. Someday I’ll convert it to a format compatible with my website but in the meantime, I still present some of its information when I lead guests along my newly revamped ethnojunket, “Not Your Ordinary Chinatown Tour.”

Want to know why it’s called that? Check it out here and sign up to experience it for yourself! And if you act soon, we can taste some fresh summertime Asian fruits at their peak of ripeness together!

(Okay, that was a gimme.)

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Longans are similar to lychees but a little less juicy and a little less florally-sweet but no less delicious; they’re both members of the soapberry family (along with rambutans) and both very much in season currently. (Nope, no currant puns; one per post is my limit.)

Its name comes from the Chinese 龍眼 (lóng yăn), literally “dragon eye”: if you hold a peeled longan up to the light, you can see the dark seed through its translucent flesh, hence the name. Here’s looking at you, kid. 😉

Since it’s the height of Asian fruit season in Chinatown, I’ll publish one more chapter here in my Chinatown fruit report but I urge you to head out and support your local Chinatown for a first-hand experience.

Of course, if you’d prefer a guided tour (ahem!), please check out my Not Your Ordinary Chinatown Tour. Hope to see you soon!

Some years ago, a unique stop on my Flavors of Little Levant ethnojunket in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn was Leske’s Bakery, the last vestige of that neighborhood’s Norwegian community. Although specifically Scandinavian baked goods proliferated primarily around Christmastime, Leske’s also catered to the local Italian and Irish populations with first-rate Irish soda bread, Danish pastries and Brooklyn specialties like black & white cookies, blackout cake, and New York cheesecake. It was an unexpected site amid the dozens of Middle Eastern and Yemeni venues we frequented. Sadly, after a long and bumpy run, much beloved Leske’s closed permanently.

Subsequently, I was pleased to discover the arrival of a new bakery in the same digs at 7612 5th Avenue that was equally legit but Italian this time, Il Fornaretto with authentic roots in Italy by way of Bensonhurst.

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This is one of their takes on focaccia and it was the real deal, topped with onions, herbs and a touch of tomato sauce; they also offered a cherry tomato version.

Being incapable of leaving an Italian bakery without something sweet to look forward to, I selected a sfogliatella (or “sfol ya del” as we pronounced it in my yout’) aka lobster tail (which we never called it).

The inner workings reveal a filling made from sweetened ricotta, semolina, and eggs that evokes happy, high-calorie kidhood memories.

I haven’t tried their artisanal prosciutto bread yet, so check out my Flavors of Little Levant ethnojunket and we can taste test it together!