Off the Map: Unfortunately, the Noodles Are the Only Ones Drunk

Drunken Noodles with Chicken -- Wazuzu, Las Vegas, NV
Wazuzu

If there is one thing we have learned from doing this blog, it is to be suspicious of Giada Di Laurentiis's tastes.

Is This 'Best Thing I Ever Ate' or 'Best Thing My Dog Ever Ate'?

While we wouldn't say she has the worst track record for picking Best Thing I Ever Ate dishes, hers are most certainly not the most successful.  Therefore, Vodka and her friends, Chianti and Bloody Mary, approach Wazuzu in Las Vegas, home of Giada's favorite drunken noodles with chicken from the WITH CHOPSTICKS episode, with trepidation.

Giada's Been Here, You Say? In That Case, We'll Be Leaving

One thing that impresses Chianti about Wazuzu's menu is the full page of vegetarian options in the back (being that she's a long-term treehugger and all).  One thing that does not impress any of us is the looks of our three cocktails once they appear on our table.

Again With the Plastic Straw, Vegas?!

We have ordered the Pair of Cards, Thai Silk and Coconut Mojito, all of which look like they should be served poolside at a resort -- not exactly bad, but not exactly what we're in the mood for either.  To add insult to injury, upon placing her coconut mojito in front of her, the waitress tells Chianti, "Sorry, we're out of coconut foam."

"Coconut foam?"

"It's supposed to be on your drink, but the dispenser isn't working."  At this news the three of us exchange glances, and the second the waitress is out of earshot, Chianti reveals, "She should have never told me that.  I wouldn't have known what I was missing, but now I feel like I'm being deprived."

Waitressing 101: Don't Give Vodka & Co. an Added Reason to Complain

The arrival of our food proves equally disappointing, particularly the Best Thing I Ever Ate dish itself.

By the Looks of Things, This Should Cost $2.99 and Be Served in a Paper Takeout Container

Vodka, who has rarely met a noodle dish she didn't like, is far from taken with this platter in front of her, which does not taste any better than the Asian dishes served to us the previous day at the all-you-can-eat buffet.  Nothing about this dish is overtly bad -- it is just boring as all get-out, and certainly not worth a mention on a nationally broadcast food program.

Thwarted Yet Again by Giada's Questionable Tastes

If there is one standout among our food, it is Bloody Mary's tuna sushi rolls, which taste almost as pretty as they look.

Now This -- THIS We Could Have Gotten Behind

Her wonton soup, along with Chianti's vegetarian ramen, are pleasing, if far from remarkable, and overall, we feel that the meal could have been a lot more successful if our cocktails actually tasted like, you know, alcohol.

Goldilocks-Sized Bowls: From the Small...

...to the Gigantic (and Chock Full of Leaves)

As it stands, we walk out of Wazuzu resolutely sober, with not even a smattering of coconut foam to hold dearly in our memories.

Wazuzu's Drunken Noodles with Chicken: 3 stars

We'd Like the Chicken Pork Buns

Akamaru Modern Ramen -- Ippudo
Ippudo

On the very first day that we set out on this Best Thing I Ever Ate mission, we attempted to go to Ippudo.  Thirteen months later, we have finally eaten at the place.

We've Actually Been Waiting in Line at Ippudo for That Long

When we tried to go to Ippudo last year, the wait for a table was over two hours, which is about one hour and fifty-five minutes longer than we are willing to be patient.  Since then, the popularity of the place has scared us away from trying again, despite our desire to try Claire Robinson's favorite dish to eat WITH CHOPSTICKS, the Akamaru Modern Ramen.

With Classy Bathroom Signs Like This, No Wonder the Place is So Popular

Finally, we agree to venture back to Ippudo, but only because we can both arrive at the opening time of 5:00pm and thus will be guaranteed a table.  Right?

Well, guess what?  Eating the early bird special on a rainy night in Manhattan appeals to a lot more people than we had assumed.  Considering we are almost always two of the only people in any given restaurant based on our senior citizen dining times, we find the line waiting to get into Ippudo at 5:00pm unfathomable.

Pretty Impressive Attendance for a Place with Malformed Chairs

When the doors open, we are instantly overwhelmed.  The cramped hostess/bar area is so tiny that the line has looped around in a disorganized fashion.  When we eventually reach the hostess, she takes our name and says it will be just a few minutes.  Fine.  Fine, that is, until the cheering starts.

It seems that every time a party is seated within Ippudo's dining room, the staff lets out a whooping cheer of welcome.

For the record, this practice, in our opinions, is nothing short of horrifying.

Someone Hand Us Some Wine, Stat, Or We're Not Going to Survive

When our name is called and we are escorted through the corridor of waiting whoopers, we both flinch and cower in the face of their cheering, while Vodka whines, "I really don't like that.  I REALLY DON'T LIKE THAT."  As we soon learn, Ippudo is full of such distractions throughout one's dining experience -- the whooping is near-constant, the Asian hip hop music is pumping loudly, the wall decorations are shimmering in sparkles, the busboys are popping up constantly, and it is loud loud loud.

In This Place, It's Shocking the Napkins Aren't Covered in Glitter

While deciding on our menu choices, Ginger tries to suggest an appetizer, for which Vodka shushes her.  "You need to stop talking.  I can't take one more -- what's the word?  The thing you give to babies."

"Stimulation?" Ginger (because we are clearly on the same idiotic wavelength) fills in.

"Yes!  Too much stimulation.  I can't read and listen at the same time.  This place is going to give me some kind of seizure."  We decide on the the Akamaru Modern Ramen, of course, but we are unsure whether we should include one of their "topping suggestions," the nitamango or the kakuni.

"I mean, I would say 'no' because I don't even know what those things are," Ginger says.

"Egg and pork belly," Vodka translates instantly, which causes Ginger to throw down her menu in shock.

"How did you -- ?"

"I previewed the menu this afternoon," Vodka confesses.  "Don't worry, I didn't suddenly learn to speak Japanese."

Though That Would Be One Heck of a Party Trick to Pull Out of Thin Air

We decide to forgo the toppings and stick with the plain ramen, and we have also settled on getting some form of "bun" as an appetizer.  Given the choice of pork, chicken, or shrimp, we pick chicken since there is already pork in our ramen.

After ordering our wine (which comes in two varieties -- $8 or $18.  Obviously, we went for the $8 version), Vodka, in a continuing show of stupidity, asks the waitress for the "chicken pork buns."

"Chicken buns," Ginger corrects her, which causes us both to launch into a fit of laughter over our own idiocy.  We are so distracted with our own humor that we can barely concentrate on the waitress's prattling on about why the shrimp buns are actually the better option, so before we know it, we have agreed to her persuasions, and two steamed shrimp buns have appeared before us.

"I Am Not a Shrimp, I Am a King Prawn."  Ten Points to Anyone Who Recognizes That Reference

Though we had ordered the buns almost as an afterthought, they prove to be the absolute best we have tasted -- spicy with a hint of sweetness, crunchy from the fried shrimp and lettuce, yet cushioned by the soft bun, we lap them up in seconds (and good thing we do, because the busboys are once again clearing our plates before we even get the first bites in our mouths).

Buns of Steel Shrimp

"It tastes kind of like a McDonald's chicken sandwich," Ginger observes, which in our world, is just about the highest compliment we can pay a dish. 

"No one would compare an upscale shrimp bun to a McDonald's value meal item and mean it positively except us," Vodka states.

"And that's why no one will ever understand our work," Ginger notes, as if we are food history academics rather than two dopes who just happen to know their way around a fast food menu.

Also, the Phrase "Our Work" Is Employed As If We're Ph.D. Candidates in Nonsense

As we wait for our bowl of ramen, the spastic service continues with the constant filling of our water glasses and swiping of our plates.  Additionally, a solitary bowl of noodles has arrived on our table prior to the ramen itself -- we had wanted to order the "kae-dama" (more noodles) halfway through our ramen because we thought the concept was hilarious, but our waitress has decided to cut down on our fun and bring the noodles now.

Which, of course, means we have to taste them.

Who Needs Any Stinkin' Broth Anyway?

As Vodka sticks her chopsticks into the bowl, we note that the hovering busboys are no doubt judging this behavior, murmuring to themselves, "Look at those poor girls.  They think that's ramen."

Vodka and Ginger: Keeping Idle Waitstaff Amused Since 2011

The noodles prove to be more flavorful, even without any broth or spices, than we had assumed.  The ramen itself soon arrives -- a bowl filled with miso paste, pork chashu, kikurage, scallions, garlic oil, and of course, noodles -- and we are told to stir it all together before tasting it.

So We're Not Supposed to Eat All of the Components Separately, 1950s TV Dinner-Style?

When we finally dive in, spoon and chopstick-first, we are in love.  The broth is warm and full of spice, the noodles ideally cooked, and the pork soft and supple.

Mmm Mmm Good

As we lap up ever increasing amounts of noodles at once, Vodka ends up dumping an entire spoonful directly onto her face, and the noodles then slop back into the bowl on their own.

And We Still Have So Many Noodles To Go!

"Note for the blog: don't come here on a date," Vodka states, yet our difficulty eating does not hinder our enthusiasm.  The waitress had brought us an extra bowl for divvying up the goods, which Ginger has now commandeered as part of her own ramen-assistance program.  As we reach the bottom of the bowl, we decide that against our usual contrary natures, Ippudo may just be worth the wait out the door, the frenetic service, the shiny walls, and the pounding music.

But please, Ippudo, PLEASE do away with the cheering.

Ippudo's Akamaru Modern Ramen: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: It's Never Good When White Rice Is the More Appealing Option

A&M Crispy Beef -- Cafe Zen, Baltimore, MD
Cafe Zen

If there is one thing we have determined about Duff Goldman, it's that his taste fluctuates from the highest of highs (Morimoto) to the lowest of lows (Franklin Fountain).  Unfortunately, at this particular point in our Best Thing I Ever Ate journey through Baltimore, we are on a downward swing.

We've Evolved from Pig Slop to Dog Food

After an unsatisfying meal at Golden West Cafe, Vodka and her friend, Bloody Mary, head to Cafe Zen, a nondescript Chinese Restaurant along a strip of even less remarkable stores in yet another odd section of town.  At the heart of lunchtime on a Saturday, the place is empty save for one lone table, and the hostess gives us our pick of seats.

Happening Place You've Got Here, Baltimore

We sit ourselves in the back corner booth and order one serving of the Crispy A&M Beef, as recommended by Duff on the WITH CHOPSTICKS episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.  The dish is subtitled "candy beef," because it is supposed to be just as addicting as sugary snacks.

This Doesn't Exactly Look Like a Jolly Rancher to Us

With any luck, it is more appealing than the Cafe Zen bathroom, which is about as run-down and shabby as one can imagine.  In truth, the rest of the restaurant has not fared much better, giving the term "hole in the wall" new meaning, as there do appear to be actual holes in the wallpaper.

Why Preschoolers Shouldn't Be Allowed to Decorate Restaurant Walls

Our cups of water and plate of beef soon arrive, and we fear we are about to continue our pattern of having lukewarm dining experiences when devoid of alcohol.  There is a hefty portion of beef piled up on the plate, with very few carrot and celery shavings sprinkled on top.  The meat has an orange tint from the honey sauce, and the platter looks remarkably like a crispy beef entree that Vodka consumed at Shun Lee in Manhattan a few years back.

Sadly, Cafe Zen and Shun Lee are not exactly equal partners in the art of Asian cuisine.

Upscale Chinese Fare, This Is Not

Taking our first bites, our mouths are greeted by the slightly tangy sweetness that coats the best crispy entrees.  We chew through our strings of beef, waiting for the actual meat to appear under the thick coating of batter.

No meat is ever found.

Thanks for the Pile of Breading Though, Cafe Zen

By our second pieces, we realize that this crispy beef is suffering from two major problems: it is all but missing its main component (the beef), and it tastes burnt.  An overall hint of char remains on our taste buds long after each bite is swallowed, and we are becoming increasingly appalled.

If We Weren't Ladies, We'd Say Exactly What Those "Beef" Pieces Look Like....

While the dish that Vodka remembers from Shun Lee was shiny, smooth, vaguely crunchy yet tender on the inside, this "beef" (if we can even call it that) is sticky, hard, and remains in the crevices of our teeth like taffy ("candy beef," indeed).

What's the Zodiac Sign for "Awful"?

Less than halfway through the dish, we both begin scooping forkfuls of white rice in our mouths as a more palatable alternative, knowing that it's never a positive sign when the bland accompaniment is considered the more pleasant portion of a dish.

Anyone Have Any Butter and Salt to Go With Our Rice?

When we have leaned back in our booth benches in various states of disgust, the waitress comes over and asks how everything was.

Our Fortunes Should Have Warned Us About This Place

"It was... okay...," Vodka says in the decidedly cryptic tone that anyone with solid customer service skills, not to mention eyes to spot the mound of crispy beef remaining on our plate, would pick up on.

"Do you want to wrap this to go?" the waitress plows through, ignoring Vodka's obvious displeasure.

Does It LOOK Like We Want to Take This to Go?!

"No!" we answer.  After all, it was bad enough to taint our Cafe Zen experience with such so-called "food."  The last thing we want to do is tarnish our own refrigerators with the same burnt pile of honey-crusted mystery meat.

Vodka's Fortune = The Best Thing About This Place

Cafe Zen's A&M Crispy Beef: 2 stars

Off the Map: An Oliveless Shirley Temple and Other Assorted Problems

Crispy Calamari Salad – Continental, Atlantic City, NJ
Continental

Vodka and Ginger head down the shore for one reason and one reason alone.  Not to lay on the beach.  Not to gamble our food budgets away in Atlantic City.  Not even to become reacquainted with sunscreen.

We go down the shore to watch the royal wedding.

Memorabilia Much?

Vodka fancies herself a bit of a royalist, and by “a bit,” she means “a crazed wannabe Windsor.”

Ginger does not really care much about William and Harry et. al., but she’s always up for tea and a crumpet.

As previously mentioned, Vodka had purchased half of Tea and Sympathy’s wedding memorabilia a few weeks back, and she carts it down to the seaside for royal watching purposes.

Ginger, priorities intact, travels with two bottles of wine.

After an early morning of wedding watching, complete with English Hob Nobs and Ginger cookies, we take a long winter’s nap before using Vodka’s paraphernalia for its true purpose: to drink Skinnygirl margaritas.

The Queen Would Be So Proud

We toast to Her Royal Highness, Bethenny Frankel, Princess of Tequila before heading into Atlantic City.

Which is when Ginger walks into a door.

At this point, feeling very little pain due to the dulling effect of the gallon Skinnygirl margaritas we just consumed, Ginger insists she is fine, welted face or not.

And she acts fine all the way to Caesar’s Piers.  All the way through Vodka drunkenly dropping her Le Bernardin budget on Burberry sunglasses (which, by the way, make her look like Blanche Devereaux of Golden Girls fame).  All the way to our bar stools at Continental where we want to try Anne Burrell’s Best Thing I Ever Ate WITH CHOPSTICKS dish, crispy calamari salad, as our appetizer.

Poor Photography

The only hint that Ginger is possibly suffering from a concussion comes when she begins arguing with the Continental bartender about the lack of olives in her Dirty Shirley.

For those of you who aren’t in the know about spiking childhood drinks, a Dirty Shirley is a grown-up version of a Shirley Temple – you know, the pink drink with cherries on top that you used to order at T.G.I. Friday’s in your youth in order to sound mature.

THE DRINK THAT DOES NOT CONTAIN ANY OLIVES.

Notice the Lack of Olives

Even though Ginger has ordered at least 27 Dirty Shirleys in her lifetime, she is suddenly convinced that it is an olive-based drink, and she wants her olives dammit.  While Vodka makes excuses to the befuddled bartender about the confusion, (“You have to forgive her – she just hit her head.”), Ginger finally establishes where her olive delusion came from: Continental’s Dirty Shirley contains “Three Olive Vodka.”

NOT OLIVES.

Anyway.

Vodka (for once not the troublemaker with the waitstaff) sips her Twizzle cocktail sheepishly as we await our crispy calamari salad and Ginger makes finger indentations on her growing head bump.

See the Licorice on Top? Delicious

Our salad arrives, and it is massive.  It is also sans chopsticks, a detail that we do not notice, but that therefore defeats the purpose of eating Anne Burrell’s go-to WITH CHOPSTICKS dish.  Instead, we ungraciously dive in with our forks and start eating like savages.

One Spoon Does Not Two Chopsticks Make

The first thing we notice (and clearly, we’re not noticing much, based on the lack of chopsticks), is that the salad is extremely vinegary.  So vinegary that it makes our lips tingle.  This vinegar has also seemed to make the salad extremely slippery, as the bean sprouts keep falling from our forks onto the floor (this is when chopsticks could have come in handy, Continental). The lettuce is also displeasingly soggy.

That said, we like vinegar well enough, so this overbearing ingredient does not completely turn us off.

What turns us off more is the sheer lack of crispy calamari.

Now, perhaps it’s just the proportion of the salad that is off – it comes in a humongous bowl.  This bowl could be cut in half, and the calamari would seem plentiful.  The way it stands, we have to fight through landfills of lettuce to find one solitary piece.  And the calamari itself is good, which makes it all the more disappointing that it is so scarce. However, the pool of vinegar dressing quickly abates the "crispy" part.

Let's Play Where's Waldo? with the Calamari

We both have loved Continental in the past, at the Philadelphia locations and this Atlantic City one.  But this salad is far from our favorite thing we have eaten here (the cheesesteak eggrolls come to mind as one of the best).  We do not even finish the salad, and we instead down our cocktails and stumble off of our stools, heading off in search of olives and an ice pack.

Continental’s Crispy Calamari Salad: 3 stars

Do YOU Have Alcohol?

Crispy Cumin Lamb Filets – Szechuan Gourmet
Szechuan Gourmet

The week was not going well.  And our solution to bad weeks is to drink cocktails and make light of life’s problems.

This is the reason Ginger Orchid called Szechuan Gourmet at 11:00am on a Wednesday to inquire about their booze selection.

Assured that they have “wine,” (they also have beer, but we hate beer more than Vodka Stinger hates Cheesecake Lollipop trees), we venture into the depths of midtown that evening for Frank Bruni’s Best Thing I Ever Ate dish to eat WITH CHOPSTICKS: Crispy Cumin Lamb Filets.  Now the best thing Vodka Stinger has ever eaten with chopsticks was cold, leftover pasta when all of her forks were in the dishwasher (it was a particularly fat night), but she’s willing to give the lamb filets a try.

However, we encounter a big issue: Szechuan Gourmet does not serve wine.  They serve RICE wine.  Which is nothing like real wine whatsoever.

The Only Glass of Wine We Haven't Finished

We discover this wine misnomer when we ask our waiter if we can sample the rice wine before ordering full glasses. He hauls out a jug (a certifiable jug) that is mildly sticky and slimy at the same time, and he pours us a sample.  Upon taking a sip, it takes all our strength we have not to gag.

We’re sure rice wine is an acquired taste, and one that we have not yet acquired.  The best way to describe it is that it tastes like a hardcore, rustic Polish vodka that Vodka Stinger was once served against her will.  Just remember that if you see rice wine on the menu, you will not be getting white zinfandel.

What Kind of Booze Selection Can You Expect from a Place with Half a Sign?

Settling for a sober meal (the horror), we order scallion pancakes and the crispy cumin lamb filets.  (Meanwhile, the girl who has taken up residence at the table next to us has ordered at least half of the menu, and she is slurping it with an intensity that is even more gag-worthy than the rice wine).  The scallion pancakes are delicious, particularly after Ginger dumps half a canister of soy sauce on them.  Already greasy, they now look like something that has been left out in the rain a few too many times.  Thankfully, their aesthetics do not impact their taste.

We Love Us Some Grease

The crispy cumin lamb filets are… interesting.  They’re not that crispy, and they’re much more (pardon our French) turd-like than those served to Frank Bruni on Best Thing I Ever Ate.  Both of us are fans of cumin, so that’s not the problem – in fact, there is no real problem with them, besides the fact that they are not quite as good as we had been expecting.

And the lack of booze didn’t help wash them down.

Not All That Crispy But Very Cuminy

Finishing our meal as quickly as possible in order to get away from our slurping neighbor and thirsty throats, we head outside to 39th Street in search of a bar.  Any bar will do.  We’re willing to return to our Times Square roots if necessary, but that seems so far and we are so sober.  Peering in the windows of the restaurants right next to Szechuan Gourmet, Ginger Orchid starts calling out desperately, “Do YOU have alcohol?”  Finally (after a whole 20 feet), we settle for a place across the street and pull ourselves up to the bar.  As they are without specialty cocktails, we order our old standard cosmopolitan, and we toast the night away.

Hello Old Friend

By the end of the night, we had each spent $12 on food and $47 on drinks.  Just the way we like it.

Szechuan Gourmet’s Crispy Cumin Lamb Filets: 3 stars