You know what night it is? Asian night again! Third time this week. I made Thai beef salad, which is something I hadn’t had in too long. And it made good use of leftovers, even: I had half a seedless cucumber in the fridge and, if you can believe this, a box of *kaiware* (daikon sprouts). Who doesn’t have some of those kicking around? So the salad consisted of sliced steak, *kaiware,* cucumbers, cilantro, shallots, scallions, fish sauce, sugar, lime juice, and roasted rice powder. On the off chance that Iris wanted some salad, I didn’t put any chiles in, but I served sliced serranos in fish sauce on the side.

My plan was to make peaches with sticky rice for dessert, but the yucky hand of fate intervened by infesting my bag of sticky rice with moths. I promised Iris we’d get a new bag soon. “What if that one’s also buggy?” she asked.

I had some fully debugged jasmine rice on hand, so I toasted it up and ground it into powder. “I don’t think I want that,” said Iris. But when she saw how unthreatening the rice powder looked, she did want some. I suggested she dip her steak into it, and she did, big-time. “I didn’t think I was going to like it, but I do like it,” she said. Generally I’m too stubborn to admit something like that. If you haven’t tried steak dipped in rice powder, please do. Iris shared a piece of hers and it was good and crunchy. A little salt in the rice powder might be even better.

Laurie whipped up some biscuits and we had a peach shortcake picnic on the balcony. Nobody missed the sticky rice.

This month in [Culinate](http://www.culinate.com/):

[Steaking a claim](http://www.culinate.com/read/bacon/aged_beef)

> But beef, in particular, is improved by taking a large piece of the carcass (in professional terms, a side or primal) and hanging it in a cold, humid, drafty place for one to eight weeks. In the process, the meat loses weight due to evaporation, acquires a moldy, leathery crust, and basically takes on the appearance of Keith Richards.

This one was fun to write because, wait, do I really have to explain why?

As soon as I saw the recipe for pasta with corn, pancetta, and sage in the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, I knew it was going to be awesome. It wasn’t until I got to making it that I realized just how much butter goes in. I ended up using, uh, fourteen tablespoons.

Here’s the recipe.

Make this before corn season is over, and before I use up all the butter. On earth.

Laurie pointed out that a bowl of buttery corn with sage and pancetta would be fine without the pasta. Possibly better. I will investigate.

There are more teriyaki restaurants in Seattle than all the burger chains combined. But nobody ever talks about teriyaki. Nobody, other than college freshmen, compares teriyaki places the way people hunt for the best banh mi or pad Thai. It is totally uncool. My favorite is Nasai, on the Ave.

This week’s Seattle Weekly takes teriyaki seriously in a big cover story by critic Jonathan Kauffman. He traces the history of Seattle’s favorite food from its 1976 genesis to the present. My only beef with Kauffman’s story is that he mentions his favorite teriyaki places, but not by name.

He remedied that on the Weekly’s blog. One of Kauffman’s favorites, Teriyaki Madness, is right down the street from us. I’ll take Iris there for lunch soon. Grilled chicken on rice, plus soy sauce. How could that be wrong?

Last time I was in Vancouver I wimped out on Kintaro Ramen–saw the line out the door and went for bibimbap instead. I made up for it this time by eating at Kintaro twice.

There is little to say about Kintaro that you can’t already find with a quick Google search. Most people point out that the ramen is top-notch and the restaurant is dingy. There is really no decor at all. It looks like this. The banner out front is torn and stained. Some complain about bad service; I had great service, but I’m sure mileage varies.

What makes Kintaro great is the ritual.

The first time I went, it was about 9:45pm. Laurie and Iris and I went to English Bay beach in the afternoon and had cupcakes for snack, then a hot dog from a beachside cart for dinner. Perfect. But later I got hungry, so I walked down to Kintaro. There was no line. It was a little cool outside, but at the counter it was hot, because steam from the cauldrons of stock blew on my face. There is always one employee assigned to continuously skim the stock.

There are three choices of stock at Kintaro: light, medium, or rich. The designation refers, at least in part, to the concentration of pork fat. There is no vegetarian food at Kintaro. The broth may be augmented with miso or soy sauce. I ordered the miso ramen with medium stock and fatty pork. There is also lean pork. Whatever. The fatty pork is absolutely beautiful. They roll and tie a section of pork belly and braise it in the bubbling stock, then chill and slice it. The miso ramen also includes bean sprouts, corn kernels, scallions, onions, and bamboo shoots.

The ritual of Kintaro is this: You study the menu while waiting and order swiftly. The restaurant has no wall hangings to distract you, so you watch the staff assemble your ramen. When it comes, you eat it. You can’t read a book, because it would be destroyed by flying noodle spray. You will get broth on your shirt. When you finish the ramen, you pay up and leave, because someone else needs your seat. Calling it a Zen experience would probably be taking it too far, but you get the idea.

I took my dad to Kintaro for lunch, and we waited in line about 40 minutes. This is also key. When we arrived, we weren’t very hungry, because we were full of French toast. By the time we got in, we were ravenous. Kintaro doesn’t get between you and your ramen, except when necessary.

**Kintaro Ramen**
788 Denman St (at Robson), Vancouver BC
604-682-7568
Tue-Sun: 12pm-11pm
Mon: CLOSED