Bread, Dumplings and Noodles

First an administrative note: I recently had occasion to read back obsessive-compulsively through this blog. And noticed that it took a real nosedive around the time I got a day job. Not just in terms of the frequency and length of entries--that was to be expected--but, more mortifying to me, in the quality of writing as well. Yes, an increase in typos and grammatical errors, but more than that, a loss of some snap in the prose. (That more non-job energy has been going into other forms and venues of writing may explain it, in a somewhat gratifying way, but is no excuse.)

With that stated, I'll try to do a better job in this week's entry.

Earlier this week I was introduced to The Bread Shack in Auburn. Did you know that Auburn was home to an internationally renowned competitive baker? I, for one, did not. I was introduced to it over a lunch hour by a colleague who shall be referred to as the Charming Professor, or CP for short. Now, I will confess that I was focused primarily on the conversation. But I could not help but notice that the cranberry walnut chicken salad sandwich (on cranberry walnut bread) I was eating was one of the most delicious things I have ever had in sandwich form. As a consequence, I think I may at times have spoken with my mouth full, unwilling or unable to refrain from taking another bite. CP ordered a sampler of cookies for the table, sparing me the agony having to choose among the many cookies, tarts, and pastries for a sweet. All the cookies were buttery, perfectly crisp and just sweet enough. But the snicker doodle in particular was a taste I want to have again and again.

Last night brought us into the already praised Schulte & Herr for our third visit, an unexpected dinner. We were graciously seated despite a lack of reservations. The Little One was emphatic about having the Wurstplatte, Hot Librarian wanted the Maultaschen (ravioli-type dumplings filled with soft white cheese and greens, served with roasted root vegetables). So despite wanting the Maultaschen myself, I took one for the team and ordered the Wurstplatte. LO tore through half the sausage and the ham, and generous dollops of the sauerkraut (braised with bacon for extra pigginess) and German potato salad. Yet my gambit worked, for HL had had a late lunch and wasn't very hungry: I got a couple of maultaschen and some deliciously sweet roasted parsnips and carrots--leaving no room, alas, for the plum streusel.

Today for lunch, in the midst of our Saturday grocery shopping, I took LO where I would have preferred to go last night, Pai Men Miyake. LO was emphatic about wanting the gyoza. I also ordered the edamame for us to share, to make sure she would have some vegetable matter. The sashimi soba that I ordered was refreshing and well-balanced, perfect for a warm spring day. But the real highlight was a special small plate that I ordered at the end of the meal, to fill the hole inevitably left by a tasty and moderately portioned Japanese meal: deep-fried oxtail. The oxtail had been braised into a shreddy, near gelatinous state, then formed into a cube which was breaded and deep fried, then served with a streak of sauce made with sendai miso (a four-hundred-year-old delicacy whose praises are well-sung here) and, for balance, a little mound of kimchi. It was a special, so I may never taste it again.