A Few Good Dishes: Asia 2013

Here’s an unscientific look at some of the finest — or most memorable — things I ate during a year or so of wandering around Southeast Asia.


Warung Sari Alam, Ende, Flores.

Indonesian food is delicious. As I learned soon enough during my time there, Indonesian food is also exceptionally repetitive. Once you’ve burned through the quotidian pleasures of nasi goreng, rendang, kang-kung, and satay, one quickly realizes that it is about what’s on offer in most places.

The selection tends to drop down to rendang, fried chicken, and squid in coconut milk in most places in Flores, a remote section of Indonesia that sees few tourists and doesn’t exactly have access to the monstrous infrastructure of the fast-food world. I did discover an excellent buffet-style warung in Ende, Flores, a town of stunning natural beauty not exactly renowned for its cuisine. It’s called the Warung Sari Alam and is located on Jalan Ahmad Yani on Flores. You order like at most warungs: go check out various cauldrons and containers of food, point at what you ike, and pay according to your selections — it’s not going to be very much whatever you do, so you have license to go nuts.

Ask them to add sambal and you’re golden. Do not panic upon realizing that nothing is refrigrated or even kept particularly warm. The particularly oily, spicy nature of Indonesian food tends to keep stuff from delving into food-poisoning land. The above image portrays a fairly typical, if unusually delicious warung plate, complete with stir-fried sambal shrimp, chili eggplant, kang-kung, rendang, coconut curry over rice, and a selection of excellent home-made sambals. Whoever transports this concept to the US and manages to make it hip will become fabulously wealthy. At least on the coasts.


Ristorante delle Mitre, Manila, Philippines

My favorite restaurant in Manila has a theme: bishops. No, really, it’s called the Ristorante delle Mitre and every item on the menu is a favorite of a Filipino senior priest, bishop, or archbishop. The religious theme extends to the kitchen: the staff are nuns, and many of the customers are members of the Catholic clergy in one role or another. The food is Filipino-Spanish and reminds me very much of the Cuban food I grew up with as a unicorn-like native Floridian— perhaps not surprising, as the food of Spanish colonies seems to evolve in rather similar ways.

I had an excellent creamy seafood chowder, followed by a dish of tender braised pork knuckle served over plantains in a rich brown gravy. Other favorite dishes include citrus adobo, sinigang, crispy pata and other stand-bys. Even the coffee is pretty good. The dining room reminds me of the quiet Cuban coffee shops I know from my Florida visits, all wooden accents and yellow walls, and features various jaunty bishop accessories — including sparkly hats, vestments, and many and sundry images of Jesus. Nip across the street to the San Agustin Church for the whole Catholic immersive experience.


Pad Thai Ari, Ari BTS stop (near), Bangkok, Thailand

I will admit to the world that I am not a huge consumer of carbs. I am not one of those loathsome paleo diet people, nor do I need to engage in a course of slimming: I simply find I feel better if I keep my carb intake relatively low. It’s not a militant rule — people with militant dietary rules are rarely invited back to parties — but I was nevertheless delighted to discover that a few special Bangok eateries will make their pad thai with stir-fried green papaya instead of rice noodles. Such is the case at Pad Thai Ari, a quiet little lunch spot near the Ari BTS stop.

I stay at the Chew House guesthouse right over here and always stop in at Pad Thai Ari when I’m in Bangkok, although I have a remarkable talent for walking the wrong way down the street to get to it. Open by 11, it caters to a crowd of Bangkok lunch-types, and the choices for pad thai, er, stuff, are manifold: rice noodles, ramen noodles, papaya, egg noodles, macaroni, you name it! You can order pad thai with small shrimp or big shrimp: I always go for the big shrimp, which are hulking, juicy beasts with delectably juicy heads. Always eat the heads. Wash it down with a hibiscus juice, thank me later.


Aung Mingalar Shan Noodle Restaurant, Yangon, Burma

I admit to knowing little about the Shan people of Burma and even less about their food. Other than that it is delicious. A contact of mine invited me to meet him at the Aung Mingalar Restaurant in Yangon and I was pleased to make the discovery, as long-time fan of the coconut milk and chicken Shan noodles that pop up throughout the streets of Burma.

To go with our soup Shan noodles, we ordered steamed dumplings: which came out with a surprising and incredibly aesthetically pleasing fried dough topping. There was something incredibly personally satisfying about stabbing through the crispy dough to get to the hot dumplings: an aural and textural experience that I was pleased to encounter. I wish more dumpling-shillers would do this. Get on it, people.


Chicken liver biryani, Yangon.

Biryani is one of Yangon’s most famous and most rewarding food-stuffs, an Indian dish brought to Burma and transposed through local sensibilities. Fast food joints haven’t really hit Burma (yet) and the biryani shop fills the gap: cheap, greasy, good, and quick. Rice and meat and grease are cooked in enormous pots set up outside the restaurant, and you’ll usually get a choice of at least chicken or mutton.

But to my mind, the holy grail is chicken liver biryani, one of the most obscene-tasting foodstuffs I’ve eaten in Southeast Asia. Greasy, gamy, chewy, and mildly dangerous, I always have to subject myself to the tender pleasures of chicken liver biryani when I find myself in Yangon. Extra points if the outlet you’ve found serves plain yogurt to counteract the funk.

Where to find it? Look around Yangon, look for silver pots, chaos, a lunch-time crowd and a particular turmeric whiff in the air. It is then evident.


Ankermi Happy Dive, Maumere, Flores

Good food is usually not a staple of scuba-diving resorts, and especially not in Flores, where the quality of local food is usually best described as “mostly edible.” The Ankermi Happy Dive in Maumere proved a happy exception: their little kitchen turns out enormous, delicious portions of Indonesian staples with fresh ingredients. I tend to come out of the water ravenously hungry post-diving (usually for fish, which is perverse), and you can imagine my delight at being presented with this lovely Indonesian fish curry as I slowly drip-dried.

Indonesian curry doesn’t have the complexity of the Indian varietal, but with the right blend of spices and a dash of coconut milk, it can delightfully gritty and earthy. The kitchen here threw in some squash and whole red chilis, which was an added touch — and dark meat chicken, since white meat chicken is best reserved for dogs and weight-conscious Californians.


Babi Guling Ibu Oka, Ubud, Bali

Ah, babi guling. Most Indonesians aren’t keen on pork, as the vast majority are Muslims, but Bali presents a delicious exception to the rule with their local speciality of crisp roasted baby pig. In Bali, pigs are roasted over spits, bathed with coconut milk and secret spices, and then served with spicy, slightly dry sambal, as well as a entirely delightful side of the crispy skin. If you’re lucky, you’ll also get some pork bone soup to go with. There’s a lot of places to eat babi guling, but the stand-by of the genre is definitely Babi Guling Ibu Oka, which has multiple locations in Ubud and tends to do a cracking business with tourists.

Tourists aside, it’s delicious babi guling, an outlet is located right next to the Ubud Royal Palace, and you can also order a sampler with Balinese-style sausage if the urge strikes. They’ll wrap it all up in a convenient cone for you if you’re a workman or just compelled to work somewhere, as can be done with seemingly all food in Indonesia.


Golden Star Restaurant, upper 50 Street, Yangon, Burma

I first went to the Golden Star with a friend in November, and wrote a glowing review of this appealing little side-street tea house owned by an exceptionally gregarious family. These are dry-style Shan noodles, a delightful breakfast concoction of chicken stewed in coconut milk, peanuts, and scallions, served with chicken broth that you can pour over at your discretion. Something about this elegant little breakfast speaks to my depths: something is comforting to the psyche about hot aromatic noodles first thing in the morning. Pair with one of the flaky pastries the Golden Star family churns out in their small leafy courtyard: the morning is established.

Consider the Southern Sandwich: Dairy Center, Mt Airy


Dairy Center – Mt Airy, North Carolina
407 W Lebanon St, Mt Airy, NC 27030

Consider the Southern sandwich.
Dairy Center is a North Carolina burgers-and-sandwiches joint that would be absolutely heaving with bored-looking foodies if it were located in a major metro area, the sort of folks who of a weekend find themselves seeking Americana, grease, and a rootsy addition to their food blog.

Located as Dairy Center actually is in small-town Mt Airy, it’s instead a circa-the-1950s part of the scenery — the sort of place where local high-school kids get after school jobs and stand behind the counter looking alternately nervous and perky, the walls are plastered in North Carolina errata, the owner/chef is gamely manning the fry-counter, and the decor has not perceptibly changed in at least 20 years (which is as far back as I remember it).


Dairy Center specializes in the ground steak sandwich, which has become one of those culinary specialties that Mt Airy people have flown in for their far-away weddings, or at least reminiscence about sadly past a certain hour in distant locales. This is really all you should be bothering with here, burger be damned.

What’s a ground steak sandwich? It’s a Great Depression-friendly combination of ground beef, flour, and milk, which creates a distinctly creamy and smooth filling — somewhat like a dairy-centric Sloppy Joe, with a much more pleasing texture.

They come dressed with chili, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise, as well as onions, and only a total degenerate would order one plain. It costs $2. Andy Griffith was rumored to have loved them, but it’s worth contemplating that Andy Griffith has been somehow associated with essentially every bush, shrub, and old lady in Mt Airy in one way or another.


The chili is the meaty, smooth-in-texture stuff that pops up often in the Smoky Mountains. It’s chock full of cumin, not particularly hot, and widely applicable in all manner of culinary contexts, including on the more famous porkchop sandwich found at Snappy Lunch on Mt Airy’s main drag.


There’s also North Carolina coleslaw, an exceptionally finely chopped and delicately dressed condiment to rival the world’s finest — not the mayonnaise choked and vile disaster that coleslaw so often becomes. It is superb on sandwiches, especially those involving smoked pork, and I am not sure how Yankees, the wretched creatures, stomach the alternative.

The fries on offer here are best described as the Wavy Kind: I find them a bit undercooked, but my uncle is very fond of them. They are what they are.

Dairy Center also makes small, eye-bleedingly-red hot dogs with the same chili on them, wrapped in paper and squished beyond recognition. They can be consumed in about 4 bites if you’re ambitious, and would probably be sublime if one is hung over.

Indeed, that nearly-translucent Paper You Wrap Fast Food, unprinted with slogans or cartoon art, is becoming something of a rarity in today’s America, unless it is used ironically.

There’s also ice cream: I remember eating the strawberry ice cream in the parking lot here over a couple of summers, out of a white Styrofoam cup. In the warmer months, the parking lot and picnic tables outside are a nice place to be, if you can stomach the humidity of a Mt Airy summer.

Here, you can be certain you are not eating anything flavored with irony. You are simply eating a good Southern sandwich in small-town North Carolina. This is more than enough.    dairycenter3

22 Square: distinctly un-Paula-Deen eats in Savannah

14 Barnard Street
Savannah, GA 31401

Facebook page—with a copy of the menu

Savannah’s culinary scene is inextricably linked with Paula Deen, the slightly wild-eyed Empress of Butterfat whose culinary stylings wage gleeful warfare against the forces of heart-healthy diets and tempeh. This means that tourists in Savannah almost invariably find themselves washing up at Deen’s flagship “The Lady and Son’s” restaurant, reveling in dishes that involve a pound and a half of sour cream–and that’s after plating.

But contrary to popular international opinion, Southern cuisine actually isn’t all about butter, cream, and eventual artery explosion. The history of the Southern table is rooted in fresh and local ingredients, and some young chefs—even here in Savannah—are exploring the possibilities of farm to table food, right in the dragon’s den of caloric, ever-so-slightly trashy delights.

That’s the philosophy driving 22 Square, a new farm to table restaurant in downtown Savannah, located in the new Anchaz hotel. Shed all your perceptions about hotel restaurants: this place is a real find.

The menu, put together by new chef Lauren Teague, focuses on local ingredients readily found around Savannah’s temperate climes. Dishes are listed by ingredient and not by course, meaning that pork belly, oysters, and local preserves (for example) all have 3 or 4 dishes listed underneath them, ranging from appetizers to entrees. It’s an unusual format that lends itself well to exploration and sharing, though you can go the conventional route if you must.

Teague is a Culinary Institute of America Hyde Park graduate and brings a stylish aplomb to her food: it’s Southern, all right, but not of the slapped-on-the-plate variety. Portion sizes are eminently reasonable, and the prices are perfectly manageable as well—a boon in a tourist town that’s experiencing no small amount of culinary inflation.


22 Square prides itself on working with local farmers, and that’s reflected in this deceptively simple vegetable plate ($7), incorporating produce from nearby Walker Farm. Served with a garlicky and good hummus dip, the plate comes with simple sliced seasonal vegetables (including some remarkable yellow carrots), pickled specialties (fantastic haricorts verts) and a couple of creamy, delicate deviled eggs. Making a crudites plate interesting is a helluva feat: Chef …. pulls it off.


A special appetizer, these twice-baked Bluffton, South Carolina oysters were served in a new potato, then topped off with breadcrumbs for a reasonable $10. There was a bit of detectable curry in there, and the whole affair reminded me of a very high-end sports bar snack. A bit starchy for my tastes—but an interesting combination. 22 Square rotates out oyster preparations daily.22squareporkCrispy Brooklet, Georgia pork belly with brussel sprouts, pumpkin ravioi, and pork jus ($17) was a surprisingly delicate dish, with an interesting broth that cried out for a spoon. I liked the earthy, extremely seasonal combination of brussel sprouts and freshly made, not-too-sweet pumpkin ravioli. When combined with the fatty pork (seasoned with just a little 5-spice powder), it was something like a very sophisticated look at breakfast flavors.


Hunter Cattle Company grass-fed beef oxtail with with sun-dried tomato polenta cake and buttered veal gloss ($13) was rich, meaty, and a bit messy—as an oxtail should be. A small enough portion to be comfortably shared, the meat was nice and tender, and the veal “gloss” had a pleasingly intense flavor. The polenta cake was a bit too intensively oily for my tastes—I might suggest an interesting mashed potato variant for me.


House made raspberry preserves with local cheeses and berries ($14). Included an excellent Irish-style sharp cheddar and crackerbread, as well as those delightful pickled carrots and haricorts verts. No, I didn’t write down the cheeses. I rarely remember to write down the cheeses. It is my curse. However, some of the Savannah cheesemakers are linked here.


Candied bacon at the bar at 22 Square—as one does.

Don’t miss the cocktail list. 22 Square’s Manhattan, constructed by Food and Beverage manager Garron Gore wins contests—largely due to Gore’s use of a totally surprising hickory-smoked maraschino cherry in the brew. We kept on delicately requesting more from the back, and we go em’. My dad is hoping to figure out how to do this himself, to use that distinctive, sweet-and-hickory flavor as a dip for BBQ ribs.

I thoroughly enjoyed my Manhattan, a slightly sweet, robust mixture that was something like a very adult, complex, swig of alcoholic Coca Cola. I also tried a cocktail with peach, mint, and bourbon, which was—remarkably enough—not particularly sweet, a real boon for someone curiously born sans sweet tooth. My mom enjoyed a pitch-perfect gin and tonic with house-made soda.

Vy Da Quan: Vietnamese Food, Best Consumed Out of Little Blue Chairs

vydaquanoutside  The best Vietnamese food is consumed on the street or near it, off tiny tables that appear designed to accommodate intractable five-year-olds not yet  allowed to eat with the grownups. There will be little blue plastic chairs to sit in—sometimes red, on rare occasions—and this is simply how it is done. The very tall must adapt to their new-found circumstances.

Saigon has a number of excellent little restaurants of this genre, which cater primarily to locals (and occasionally the Western significant others of locals). The menus are usually translated, often hilariously, into English, and there’s always the infallible technique of “point at something you find tasty and communicate in pantomime until it hits your table.”


A great example of this genre is Vy Da Quan, which spreads brashly out into the street in downtown Saigon, off Ly Tu Trong Street. There’s a thick and glossy menu, and a grill working overtime near the back, serving up pork ribs, frogs, chicken feet and whole fish, among other culinary delights. A more expensive (and also good) restaurant that caters more to a foreigner market next door has full size tables and chairs—you’ll know you’re in the right spot by the kiddie sized tables. Blend in.

Vy Da Quan is perhaps best known for its remarkable pork ribs, which are served in somewhat maddeningly small portions—perhaps best to order 2 or 3 at a go. They are marinated in some unholy fish sauce, chili, and sugar concoction and then are grilled over a hot flame, caramelizing the sugar and intensifying the flavor of chili and pork fat.

quan33beefsaladThey also a superb raw beef salad here (Bo Tai Chanh), a surprisingly refreshing concoction of uncooked beef marinated in lime juice, with onions and a whopping variety of herbs. A superb summer dish, this goes nicely with anything hot or too heavy. Variants on this dish exist across the region, and I’ve encountered it often in Cambodia.
Balancing out the not-so-subtle ribs was a dish of clams cooked in fresh pepper and lime sauce, which was really quite sublime—a subtle, slightly sweet and piquant interpretation of a classic Vietnamese favorite. This can either be under-or-overdone, but in this case, the sauce was eminently drinkable. You might want to order bread to go with, or at least put it on your rice. (More on that later).

quan33waterspinachMorning glory was excellent, cooked with oyster sauce and with an interesting topping of smashed, deep-fried garlic cloves with the “paper” still attached. This creates a little chew if you don’t feel like removing the paper, and seems to protect the cloves to some extent so they don’t get so hard as to be inedible. Most importantly, the water spinach was perfectly cooked, and wasn’t rendered a chewy and fibrous mess as sometimes occurs. (And who doesn’t like having an invasive species for dinner?)

quan33friedrice   Even the usually-lackluster (and omnipresent) fried rice gets an upgrade here—the usual combination stuff with fried rice, squid, carrot, peas, and chicken. A dining buddy happens to be deathly allergic to shrimp, so we passed on that.  The fried rice was pleasingly a bit crunchy, and we soon deduced that it appears to have either been scraped off the bottom of the pot, or left to sit for just a minute or two in the oil to create such a pleasing texture. Some Middle Eastern cultures place great value on the crunchy rice left at the bottom of the pot: we’re not sure if this was even intentional, but it was awfully good.


We were flagrantly stuffed, but then we purchased spring rolls off the street from a guy, because that’s what one does in Vietnam. These beauties contained Vietnamese sausage, noodles, and fresh vegetables, and were served with a pleasing dipping sauce. I actually managed to finish mine, but it took (somewhat literally) a bit of intestinal fortitude to pull it off. It is worth pointing out that once you have made eye-contact with the spring roll guy, you are going to be buying a spring roll. Don’t fight it. They cost like 50 cents.

quan33grillVy Da Quan isn’t technically allowed to spread out on the street as far as it does, but there’s always a bit of mission creep. You might be apologetically shifted if the fuzz do come sniffing around—but you’ll survive. That’s half the fun of eating like you’re Vietnamese: tiny chairs, tiny tables, adaptability—and some of the best, most value-priced cuisine in the world.

Dangerous Sandwiches Throughout History: my recent magnum opus


Possibly my favorite image of Mittens ever. With a sandwich. 

I am really, really proud of my recent story on Dangerous Sandwiches Throughout History for GlobalPost. I just thought I’d share. 

Maybe there’s a book in dangerous food somewhere.

Deadly sandwiches: remarkably dangerous lunchtimes throughout history

Sewing needles have been found in in-flight sandwiches on Delta and now, on Air Canada, causing some to cast an eye of suspicion towards our most dearly-beloved lunchtime dish. But what about other dangerous sammiches in human history? A non-exhaustive list follows.

I don’t care if this sandwich is dangerous. It is delicious.

1. Congressman Dennis Kucinich’s Dangerous Sandwich. (Addendum: you find the best things when you Google “Dangerous Sandwich.”

Ohio congressman (and 2008 Presidential hopeful) Kucinich’s very public ordeal began in 2008, when he bit into an unmarked-and-dangerous olive pit in a sandiwch served at a House of Representatives cafeteria in Washington DC – splitting his tooth into multiple pieces and causing him “excruciating” pain.

“This injury required nearly two years, three dental surgeries, and a substantial amount of money to rectify,” Kucinich told CBS, pointing out that he had to get both implants and a new bridge to fix the ensuing dental problems.

2. Exploding Chicken Sandwich of Doom 

Pity Frank Sutton: late one evening in 2005, the amusement park ride technician decided to stop for a McDonalds chicken sandwich, somewhere in the bowels of Southwestern Virginia.

But things got ugly when the Florida native bit into the sandwich, whereupon, according to court records of Sutton’s testimony, “the grease from the inside of the chicken sandwich spread out all over my bottom lip, my top lip, down onto my chin,” and immediately caused serious facial blistering.

Sutton promptly filed suit and demanded $2 million for his troubles, pointing out that he was forced to work less due to a painful, persistent lip condition induced by the burns. The “exploding chicken sandwich” case was eventually settled in September 2010 for an undisclosed sum – and set off a round of hearty debate over tort reform and frivolous lawsuits.

Read more at GlobalPost…

Mushroom Hunting in Iowa: Staring At Woods for Food

You probably don’t associate the much-derided state of Iowa with rarefied culinary delights. This is because most people don’t know about the Midwest’s highly developed and slightly voodoo-like mushroom hunting culture. It all starts in the spring, when the temperature begins to climb and the landscape explodes into verdant green, complete with the twin annoyances of pollen and oodles of bitey wolf spiders.

This is the time of year when morel mushrooms begin to sprout in the Midwest, and it’s also a time when the region’s more crunchy residents begin to get a hungry, fungi-inspired glimmer in their eye. Now is the time when you don Carhartt shirts (in many colors, all of them plaid), work pants, and a hat, and make your way into the woods – surprisingly thick in this part of Southern Iowa, where I’m staying at the moment – in hunt of fungi. Since mushrooms have a delightful habit of staying put, this is much cheaper and less likely to result in a gunshot wound than hunting for birds or deer. If you’ve never foraged for your own food before, it’s a peculiar kind of rush – I’d liken it to leafing through a “Where’s Waldo” book, except you’re tromping through the woods, and you find food instead of a cartoon man in a ridiculous striped outfit. There are many edible mushrooms in Iowa, but the morel is the crown jewel of the hunt for a lot of people. This is for a couple reasons.

For one, the morel is a picky bastard and exceptionally hard to grow in captivity. You either find them in the woods, or you buy them for something like $119 a pound at your local Whole Foods. Finding them in the woods yourself is a more pleasant experience by far. Further, morels are extremely easy to identify and distinctive in apperance, which greatly decreases the risk of accidentally picking a mushroom that will horribly kill you.

The morels you find in Iowa are yellow in color, rather large, of a spongy texture, and have a ridged, rather slender top. Morel hunters tend to jealously guard their secrets of the hunt, but there’s a few good places to look. They like the roots of elm trees. They like sun, but not too much, and moisture, but not too much.

They like to sprout by creek beds, and favor rich leaf-litter. Finding them requires you to adjust your eyes, something like those Magic Eye puzzles many of us gazed into in elementary school. It’s a good idea to squat down and survey the leafy undergrowth contemplatively. Mushroom hunting involves a lot of squatting down and surveying the landscape contemplatively.

So what do you do with them when you find them? There are many possibilities, although I’m only willing to entertain a couple, at the advice of the Midwestern mighty mushroom hunters I’ve met. If you’ve got plenty – and you probably won’t – you should saute them in plenty of butter. A very light dredging in seasoned flour doesn’t hurt. Eat them with some toast points sauteed in more butter. It’s delicious, and there’s the added pyschological satisfication of eating something you found in your woods, just like your mighty wooly-mammoth hunting ancestors.

You can also make morel salt out of them, which is a damn fine spice, and rather expensive if you’re unable to DYI. Thankfully, I can. My friend Dayton says that the trick is drying them under a fan. Lay the mushrooms out on a piece of newspaper, preferably over a grid of some time. Let them dry under the fan overnight. Don’t toss the newspaper – it’s rumored that if you bury the newspaper in a likely spot, you might have morels in your backyard (or the park, or wherever) in few years.

Once you’ve got your dried morels, grind them up – a spice grinder works or a mortar-and-pestle. Then, mix them up with some high quality sea salt. Keep it in a bag and sprinkle them on standard button, portobello, or any kind of store-bought mushrooms with a delightful hit of umami. More on the Great Midwestern Morel hunt later. It’s a rather interesting phenom, and not what you think of when you think Iowa.

For example, not everyone in Iowa lives in the middle of a field of undulating, slightly creepy corn.

I was shocked too.

Kim Jong Il Invented the Hamburger, and Other DPRK Culinary Highlights

No, the hamburger was not invented in Hamburg. It did not first appear in New Jersey at Louis Lunch.The hamburger in fact first appeared in 2000 at the personal behest of Kim Jong Il, who really wanted top university students to be fed top-quality fast food in-between classes.

Eternally enterprising, Kim Jong Il decided in 2000 that he’d introduce “double bread with meat” to DPRK university students – and according to state media, seemed to take credit for the very invention of the internationally beloved specialty.

“I’ve made up my mind to feed quality bread and French fries to university students, professors and researchers even if we are in hardship,” Kim is reported to have said about the “double bread with meat” innovation, according to the New York Times.

The Dear Leader’s eating habits are described in somewhat nauseating detail by his former personal chef, Kenji Fujimoto, in a fantastic Atlantic article.

According to Mr Fujimoto, the Dear Leader deployed his minions at great expense worldwide to places like:

“Urumqi (in northwestern China) for fruit, mainly hamigua melons and grapes
Thailand for fruit, mostly durians, papayas, and mangoes
Malaysia for fruit, mostly durians, papayas, and mangoes
Czechoslovakia for draft beer
Denmark for pork
Iran for caviar
Uzbekistan for caviar
Japan for seafood”

The Dear Leader apparantly failed to notice – or care – about the mass famine that gripped the nation in the early 90s, but he was more than happy to deploy his squad of minions world-wide to get grapes, expensive fish, luxury fruits from as far as Western China, and sacks of McDonald’s burgers for him whenever his dark little heart so desired.

According to chef Fujimoto, whose memoir, “I was Kim Jong Il’s Personal Chef” tragically has not yet been translated into English, Kim Jong Il really did have a thing for burgers.

After the Leader’s sons came back from a stint at Swiss boarding school, they reported cheesburgers were delicious – and Fujimoto was promptly deployed to acquire some of the exotic treats from abroad. From the New York Times article:

“So I flew to Beijing, and went to McDonald’s and bought a bag of hamburgers,” the chef recounted. “Of course by the time I got back to Pyongyang, they were cold. So Kim Jong Il ate cold hamburgers.”

Kim Jong Il’s culinary exploration was not limited to food – he also maintained a massive wine and alcohol collection. Indeed, Hennessey earnings have dropped 70% as of Monday (not really) – after all, Kim Jong Il reportedly bought up to $720,000 of the stuff a year.

Considering Hennessey’s incredible popularity among the moneied set here in Cambodia, the cognac does seem to have a certain appeal to too-rich-for-their-own good despots of small, unimportant nations.

State-sanctioned entertainment at Pyongyang Restaurant, Phnom Penh.

From all accounts, Kim Jong Il enjoyed a remarkably elaborate diet for the supposedly salt-of-the-earth leader of the most ardently Communist nation left on Earth.

Although the people may be fed state propaganda about Kim Jong Il’s fondness for rustic meals of potatoes, barley, and gypsy tears, it’s widely known on the outside that Jong Il was dining on the finest sushi imported sushi while his people were reduced to eating bark, grass, and insects.

We can only hope that all that luxurious food hastened his fatal coronary.

Is saying that going to get me put on some sort of DPRK watchlist? That would actually be kind of awesome.

The North Korean flag is at half-mast at the DPRK Embassy located a mere 10-minute walk away from my home in Phnom Penh. The Pyongyang Restaurant here remains shuttered for a “period of mourning.”

As a hobby restaurant reviewer, I’m always interested in the culinary habits of the rich, famous, and profoundly evil – and Kim Jong Il is a fascinating subject indeed.

Also: 10 Management Secrets of Kim Jong Il – INC

This gem of an article focuses on the marvelous management abilities of the recently-departed Dear Leader. It does all make a perverse sort of sense. Especially the stuff about charisma, quality control, and “embracing new technologies.”

Does this mean Kim Jong Il was like the alternate-universe evil Steve Jobs of shitty third world dictatorships?