Keep It Cool At The Freakshow

Venice Beach Freakshow
Los Angeles (Venice) California

The staff at the Venice Beach Freak Show bid you warm welcome

The staff at the Venice Beach Freak Show bid you warm welcome

Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends; we’re so glad you could attend – come inside, come inside! The response you’re likely to get when announcing to fellow Angelenos that you’re going out to see the Venice Beach Freakshow is, “What part of the beach are you going to?” Los Angeles’ Venice Beach is packed with more craziness per square foot than almost any other place in the U.S., making it the filming location of choice for movies such as L.A. Story and Mixed Nuts, but the short stretch of boardwalk south of Santa Monica Pier is home to an eponymous self-contained sideshow that concentrates the madness into a converted storefront. The Venice Beach Freakshow is the brainchild of entrepreneur Todd Ray who, along with his family has expanded the freak show to include live and preserved animals (and humans) with multiple extremities and a stage featuring sideshow performers.

No Photoshop involved in this photo

No Photoshop involved in this photo

There is usually a barker outside convincing the public to part with a fin for the purpose of gawking at a collection and performances that are part P. T. Barnum, part Mutter Museum. As a teaser, a plastic tub of water holds a couple of small turtles paddling about to their hearts’ content; upon closer inspection, the couple of turtles each contain a couple of turtles with one sporting two heads and six legs while the other features three heads. There is a painted picture of Rocky the 5-legged dog on the banner out front; in the image, Rocky is portrayed as a fearsome Doberman complete with spiked collar which strikes fear into the hearts of mortal men until Ray’s wife Danielle approaches carrying Rocky, a frisky miniature pinscher. When you consider that you’ve seen this prior to paying admission to Ray’s freak show, the $5 seems like a bargain.

Danielle Ray holds Rocky the five-legged dog

Danielle Ray holds Rocky the five-legged dog

Upon entering the large single room to the right, the first thing you encounter is a brightly painted carnival stage that, depending on what time you arrive, may or may not have a show in progress. If not, stay put for a bit and you’ll be treated to the frequently scheduled show featuring a rotation of the kind of performers you’d expect to see at The Jim Rose Circus. The first act to perform on my visit introduced himself as Digger the Sadu Hobo from Scotland. Wearing nothing but a kilt, Mr. Digger took the stage and proceeded to subject himself to broken glass, folding chairs and audience members standing on top of him while sandwiched between two beds of nails. As with any other live show or street performance you’re likely to encounter on Ocean Front Walk, the performers graciously appreciate tips, and so for varying denominations you can tip Digger in the most appropriate manner – by fastening the bills to him with a handy staple gun. A dollar will get you the privilege of postering his chest, stomach or back; five will allow you to tack Abe Lincoln to his forehead; for ten dollars you can put Alexander Hamilton’s face on his; twenty makes a bulletin board of his tongue. Although the show is appropriate for all ages (who can suppress their gag reflexes), for an additional fee you can meet Digger after the show and fasten your cash in “other places”.

One guess what Digger the Sadu Hobo does with that staple gun

One guess what Digger the Sadu Hobo does with that staple gun

After the human pincushion left the stage, an eyebrowless platinum blond gentleman took the stage, shirtless but in a lab coat (for scientific authenticity, we can only surmise). Introducing himself as Morgue (yes, like the place where they take your corpse), he presented a hammer and nail and asked the audience if they’d like to watch him hurt himself – the applause was enthusiastic. After sterilizing the nail with his tongue, Mr. Morgue proceeded to hammer it up his nose, leaving it protruding from his right nostril a bit for effect. More impressive was his swallowing of a two-foot long sword after which he removed the hilt to demonstrate that it was not collapsible (like his lung in the event of a misjudged voyage down his esophagus). Perhaps his creepiest bit was taking a shiny, stainless-steel meat hook and threading it into his nostril (after removing the nail, of course) until the curved end emerged from his gaping maw. He then proceeded to walk through the crowd for a Kodak moment; the part I had a hard time with was hearing his raspy breathing which may be a side effect of having a metal hook running through your nasal passage.

Kids, don't try this at home

Kids, don't try this at home

Morgue brought Asia Ray (daughter of owner Todd, who also boasts the titles “The Rubber Girl”, “Fire Eater”, and “Electra, The Electric Lady”) onstage and ringmastered her electrifying performance. He began by throwing an old-fashioned double-knife throw switch which activated a red rotating alert light indicating the metal-plated chair to which it was attached was now ready to put 220 on the money. He placed a florescent bulb near the seat, which caused blue arcs to leap to the bulb base and light the gas; Asia (now Electra) sat in Old Sparky and matched the behavior of the metal plate with her hand. When Morgue announced that he was going to add gasoline to the equation I quickly mapped out the nearest exit, an unnecessary task since he simply dunked a torch into the jar which was then ignited with a touch of Electra’s finger. Ray stayed on stage, producing a second torch, which she lit and proceeded to dramatically eat the flame from both without the benefit of a side dish. Quickly changing gears to Rubber Girl, she held a broomstick behind her back with her hands out to the side, fingers facing back; she then pulled this over her head (if you think that’s easy, try it – I’ll come visit you at the hospital) and then down her front, up through her legs (while standing) and back to the initial position. I was in pain and she didn’t even flinch. She ended her act by placing her hand flat on the top of a stool and then proceeded to walk 360 degrees around it without moving her hand. Since the performers work for tips (the admission is used for upkeep on the animals, most whom are eating for two), I left a tip but opted not to use the staple gun.

One of the Jenny Hanivers on display

One of the Jenny Hanivers on display

After the show I walked around to peruse the exhibits; another stage show had started, but since I’d already witnessed the human drama of athletic competition sans the Vinko Bogataj “agony of defeat” moment I took my time at the displays. One case labeled “Monsters of the Deep” featured diminutive freaky fish, although the baby sturgeon wasn’t likely to frighten Nemo. Of greater interest was a case holding several dehydrated creatures that had been pulled up into fishing nets sporting ghostly human faces and willowy limbs; these are various varieties of skates and rays with the “wings” trimmed down, the fishes’ gill openings looking like eyes on the surgically formed head. Formerly known as “Jenny Hanivers” these mythical and whimsical manufactured beasts have been around as fodder for sideshows for and dockside purchases since the mid-16th century, predating the Fiji Mermaid.

In terms of live freaks, cages held a range of reptilian captives sporting multiple extremities in including additional turtles; a six-legged frog; a two-headed, six-legged bearded dragon; a diecephalic king snake; and a green iguana whose regenerative skills pulled a double shift when he lost his original tail.  Glass cases hold the skeletons or stuffed and mounted remains of other polycephalic or diprosopus animals including a two-faced raccoon; a calf head with two partial heads joined in the middle; and a goat with two complete individual heads and six legs; most of these animals are juveniles since their condition rarely allows them to survive very long (having to share organs and compete for food). One glass case holds a skeleton of a two-headed human baby; I’m somewhat skeptical since a cursory scan of eBay or Craigslist doesn’t turn up many sites hawking dicephalic infant skeletons and judging by the size, the owners would have had to have been toddlers.

A live two-headed, six-legged bearded dragon

A live two-headed, six-legged bearded dragon

Todd Ray passed up a lucrative career in the music industry to devote his time and energies into this labor of love; apparently he scours the globe traveling to far off exotic lands in search of living and deceased natural oddities to stock his ever-expanding freak empire. If you happen to be checking out the exterior Land of Oz that is Ocean Front Walk at Venice Beach, dropping a five-spot at the Venice Beach Freakshow is an entertainment-packed bargain. So let the sideshow begin – hurry, hurry, step right on in; can’t afford to pass it by, guaranteed to make you cry.

Venice Beach Freakshow
909 Ocean Front Walk
Los Angeles (Venice), CA 90291
GPS Coordinates:  33°59’25.25″N 118°28’35.83″W

See images from Val’s adventure in the freak show at Venice Beach

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God Save The Spleen

Pork spleen

The eel-like pork spleen

The eel-like pork spleen

In health as well as in gastronomic circles, the spleen is underappreciated and underutilized, often overlooked because no one is really sure what it does. The dark red organ gets its color from being the body’s blood recycling center; in addition to removing old red blood cells, it also acts as a reservoir for fresh blood. The spleen is one of the hardest working organs in show business (although it spends most of its time backstage while the heart, lungs and brains get all the press); in addition to being blood central, the spleen also ramps up the body’s immune system.

From a culinary standpoint, it doesn’t find its way on many menus, even in hardcore gastropubs where the nose-to-tail philosophy is executed with a vengeance. The closest cute nickname that attempts to make the organ sound more appetizing is “melt”; this probably hasn’t caught on since ordering little Billy a melt sandwich will require several years of expensive therapy when what he thought was a grilled cheese comes to the table with a generous mound of sliced spleen lovingly enveloped between crusty slices of artisan bread. This shouldn’t be a shock for someone ordering sweetbreads, fully expecting that the waiter will not be bringing out the pan dulce. For most offal aficionados, beef spleen is the most frequently used. Nutritionally, as you would expect from the body’s blood bank, the spleen is high in iron, packed with protein and low in fat, although like its cousin the liver it is high in cholesterol. Sadly, the spleen finds its way into more pet food than onto the dinner table.

Lindy and Grundy's meat cases

Lindy and Grundy's meat cases

Following L.A.’s favorite butchers (Lindy and Grundy) on Twitter provides the Twitterverse with the day’s animal flesh roll call; one recent tweet advertised that they had spleen available, and not being one to pass up an animal part I’ve yet to try, I decided to procure said organ for another of my “if you can’t find it in a restaurant, make it” experiments. I discovered that the spleen was porcine in nature rather than the almost-popular beef variety, which made it that much more attractive. I love visiting Lindy and Grundy, with the gleaming meat cases filled with every part of what walks, hops or flies around the barnyard; the meat trolley system snaking through the store like an abattoir amusement park ride; the neon art on white tile behind the counter that illuminates an old sign showing the cuts of beef drawn on a steer; I think what I love the best is when Erika “Grundy” Nakamura looks up from the butcher block, cleaver in hand and says, “I was thinking about you last week, Val – I had a goat penis in, but it was too small to be practical.”

Spleen simmering in the pan

Spleen simmering in the pan

I left Lindy and Grundy with a single spleen (as I would only be cooking it for myself) and some of their house-made scrapple; my newfound quandary was how I was going to prepare the spleen. Amelia “Lindy” Posada suggested looking up British chef Fergus Henderson’s recipe for spleen, and in doing research I found his recipe along with suggestions for other ethnic dishes featuring spleen (vastedda, a Sicilian sandwich layered with beef spleen cooked in lard and garnished with ricotta cheese; an Italian crostini featuring chopped spleen; milzsuppe (a sturdy German beef spleen soup); and, gefilte milts, a rather ambitious stuffed spleen item). Taking a cue from the self-taught Chef Henderson, I decided to go it alone. I cut the spleen into three segments; laid out it looked like a primitive flat red eel or a two foot long tongue and I knew it would never fit in the pan. As soon as the meat hit the hot bacon fat in the skillet, it did an unusual thing – the meat contracted like a garden slug sprinkled with salt. In addition to shrinking in length it also plumped up, something I’d never encountered before. Once I’d seared the spleen I browned some onion in the pan and added some beef stock and a cheap pour of some Two-Buck Chuck, lowering the heat and allowing it to simmer. As a side dish I cut some Yukon gold and blue Peruvian fingerling potatoes into little disks; these I fried, resulting in what looked like a pile of checkers or two-toned coins.

The finished product - pork spleen surprise

The finished product - pork spleen surprise

I plated the organ meat with the onion sauce that cooked town drizzled about the top, and cut into a piece of the spleen (which looked like it would have easily given way to a fork’s edge). The texture was almost identical to cooked turkey liver (I hope that’s not too obscure a reference point), and the taste was unique. Since this was pig spleen and I have yet to try beef spleen, I can’t vouch for the common complaint that the meat is high on the funk scale with a muddy taste and strong smell – the pork spleen was mild, with a rich taste that was difficult to pinpoint at the initial forkful. Eventually the aftertaste kicked in which was plainly bloody in nature, although it didn’t have the heavy metallic taste usually accompanying blood dishes. Also surprising was the appearance; I believe the blood content of the spleen contributed to the dark, almost black color. The dish did not have an offensive smell; what aroma it did have was largely a result of the onion, Italian seasoning and wine.

Although I have a higher tolerance for offal and economy cuts of meat, I actually found the pork spleen to be flavorful and unique in texture; it’s an item that I’d try again, most likely at home as I’ve yet to see it on any menu. If you’ve been holding out on me and are aware of the dish appearing on accessible gastropub menus, you got some spleenin’ to do.

Lindy and Grundy
801 North Fairfax Avenue
Los Angeles CA 90046
GPS Coordinates:  34°5’9.46″N 118°21’42.02″W

GALLERY: See images from Lindy & Grundy (butchers) and Val preparing the pork spleen

VIDEO: Watch the preparation and consumption of the pork spleen

 

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The World Is Your Oyster

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, Portland OR

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, a landmark since 1907

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar, a landmark since 1907

Portland, Oregon is small for a metropolitan city with a laid-back feel to it, but it boasts a thriving food community with something for everyone. In addition to haute cuisine, food carts, delightfully off-center establishments (such as Le Bistro Montage and Voodoo Doughnuts) and the lion’s share of coffee houses, Portland is also home to a handful of historic eateries with long and rich pedigrees like Huber’s Cafe. One of these antiques began humbly as an oyster bar back in 1907 in a time when Portland was a thriving port. Louis Wachsmuth originally founded Louis’ Oyster Bar to sell oysters his family harvested out of Yaquina Bay (about 100 miles southwest as the crow flies on the Pacific Coast). Wachsmuth’s operation became so popular that he was able to expand into the Merchant’s Exchange Saloon in 1919, adding additional seafood dishes to the menu.

A half-dozen regional oysters (from upper right, clockwise)

A half-dozen regional oysters (from upper right, clockwise)

As additional dining rooms were added, they were designed with standard nautical motif befitting a seafood house; Wachsmuth took this concept one step further in 1937 when laying out the main dining room, giving it the look and feel of eating in the belly of an old ship (complete with portholes). Louis’ Oyster Bar was a thriving family business that felt the impact of losing Wachsmuth’s son Dan to complications from the flue in 1938; as a tribute, the business was christened “Dan & Louis Oyster Bar”, which it maintains to this day and is still family owned and operated.

The ship-shaped main dining room, added in 1937

The ship-shaped main dining room, added in 1937

One of the menu items added during the initial expansion in 1919 was a simple, yet rich and elegant dish that remains Dan & Louis Oyster Bar’s most popular – the oyster stew. The brew is so ridiculously simple, yet decadent and flavorful; no reduction of this or shaved that or oak barrel aged oil of whatever – just Yaquina Bay oysters, milk, butter, salt and pepper. For the full effect, enjoying this warming concoction is best experienced in the main dining room. As the gleaming metal bowl is brought to the large, wooden galley table the thought crosses your mind that you may get doused as the room pitches on the waves, but the only risk of that happening is if the Willamette River floods its banks again. Taking in the steam rising from the stew makes you appreciate what you don’t smell – the oysters are shucked fresh before being cooked and although a sightless person could easily identify the seafood dish the aroma lets you know you’re in for a treat.

The rich, buttery oyster stew at Portland's Dan & Louis Oyster Bar

The rich, buttery oyster stew at Portland's Dan & Louis Oyster Bar

Large, whole oysters are submerged in the opaque, yellow broth; each spoonful yields plump, firm and moist mollusks that necessitate savoring slowly. The ingredients are expertly blended – there’s the perfect amount of salinity, the black pepper doesn’t burn away the flavor, and the butter that separates at the top lightly coats each oyster to create an experience similar to dredging steamers through drawn butter. The rule of thumb at most restaurants is not to go crazy with the carbs when the bread comes out, but you’re going to want to retain some or at least have some oyster crackers at hand to sponge up the creamy aphrodisiac.

The front bar where the shucking gets done

The front bar where the shucking gets done

Of course, don’t pass up the opportunity to sample regional oysters on the half shell. Although the Yaquina Bay oysters Louis Wachsmuth became famous for are now in short supply (what hasn’t been over-fished is supplied to higher paying customers on the East Coast), Dan and Louis still rotates a decent variety of the local mollusks. Whether by the half or full dozen, these pearls of the sea are shucked at the old bar in the front window, with the list of the day’s selection written on the chalkboard behind the bar. I recently tried the Deer Creek, Gigamoto, Nisqually, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Tillamook Bay shellfish. Each was relatively small in comparison to other oysters, with the diminutive Gigamoto’s shell being no bigger than a half dollar. Although the oysters were from either Oregon or bordering Washington State, they couldn’t have been more diverse in texture and flavor. While the aromatic and strong-flavored Deer Creek and Tillamook Bay seem to be the most popular, and the Gigamoto (a cross between the Kumamoto and Pacifica) is mild with a low salinity, my favorite was the Nisqually, striking a nice balance of salinity, sweet flavor and firmness.

Portland has a plethora of unique and often historic eateries that serve food perfect for the cool, damp clime of the Northwest, and experiencing this hidden treasure tucked away on a narrow, quiet street is like finding a lustrous pearl hiding in the rough recesses of a shell bed.

Dan & Louis Oyster Bar
208 Southwest Ankeny Street
Portland, OR 97204
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’20.83″N 122°40’21.46″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to the historic Dan & Louis Oyster Bar in Portland, Oregon

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Bambi vs. Lorena Bobbitt

Deer penis soup and other Chinese delights
Hop Woo, Chinatown, Los Angeles

The simple yet unusual ingredients for deer penis soup

The simple yet unusual ingredients for deer penis soup

As any longtime readers of Trippy Food will attest, I would walk out of brain surgery to try one of Chef Lupe Liang’s amazing and exotic dishes at Hop Woo in L.A.’s Chinatown. Chef Liang is a veritable Willy Wonka, creating magical concoctions featuring Noah’s share of the animal kingdom, so when Eddie Lin recently asked me to be the Hop Woo goodwill ambassador for Linda Flood (writer for Swedish magazine, Vagabond) I accepted with dignity and grace. Lupe hinted that he was going to make something special for the occasion, and based on my previous visits I couldn’t begin to imagine what that might entail.

Menu item #24: Duck Tongue with Maggi sauce

Menu item #24: Duck Tongue with Maggi sauce

As usual, Chef Liang pulled out all the stops. Upon arrival, there was already a dish of savory duck feet cooked in soy sauce on the table; eating duck feet requires the same laborious process as with chicken feet to extract the meat using intricate dental maneuvering. There seems to be less flesh on the bone than Daffy’s barnyard counterpart, so the challenge is to chew into the webbing between the toes. There is a time intensive process for preparing duck feet where the bones are removed leaving the flesh completely intact, but that method was not deployed here, resulting in us working for our supper. Slightly easier to consume, a plate of crispy coated and fried shrimp with spicy salt went down well if one is inclined to eat their shrimp shell and all (a practice I would not advise for steamed or boiled shrimp). The spice and salinity were muted but enough to keep me going back for sips of my Tsingtao and wondering if perhaps Bubba Blue forgot to mention something.

Black chicken w/winter worm and summer grass flower soup

Black chicken w/winter worm and summer grass flower soup

Lupe shared with us that almost all of the items he was preparing are featured on their extensive menu; the once mysterious “secret menu” is now largely published in the magnum opus that is the book-length menu available in print and on-line. Menu item #C12 (frog with spicy salt) was delightful; prepared in similar fashion to the shrimp, the frog was cut into nugget-sized pieces, dredged through the same complementary batter as the shrimp and then fried with chiles. The meat was tender and juicy and the preparation was the perfect entry-level excursion into eating the amphibian athlete – it didn’t resemble the animal in any possible way. As if to remind us what we were eating, our server Jason was dispatched to the kitchen, arriving back at the table a moment later with a colossal live bullfrog that had to be restrained from leaping onto the table; I don’t think he recognized his flash-fried family member on the plate. I was pleased to have another go at one of my favorite dishes at Hop Woo – menu item #24: duck tongue with Maggi sauce. This was my third outing with the avian mouthpiece and it didn’t disappoint; I’m almost afraid to try the dish elsewhere and face disappointment based on Eddie Lin’s experience with the odd delicacy.

The sweet, dark and mysterious deer penis soup

The sweet, dark and mysterious deer penis soup

Chef Liang followed up the savory and salty appetizers with a barrage of some of his most exotic and widely varied soups. The first bowls to arrive were old favorites that didn’t have the initial shock value, but still raised a few eyebrows from the Vagabond Magazine contingency – menu items #45 (beef pizzle/penis), and #C38 (armadillo), both in Chinese herbal broth. These drew surprise, specifically from photographer Anna Schori who was shocked that both the armadillo meat and the bull penis didn’t taste as off-putting as she would have imagined. I was particularly intrigued when Lupe had a large cauldron brought out and stated that it was soup featuring black chicken. Black chicken (also known as silkie) is an unusual yard bird that has black skin, flesh and even bones; the species is said to benefit kidney and liver problems as well as containing amino acids that are said to increase the production of blood cells and hemoglobin. Lupe explained that from a Chinese apothecarial standpoint, the silkie is beneficial to women who are pregnant – all I know is that the soup was stocked with fresh ingredients such as wood ear fungus, and orange fungus referred to as “winter worm/summer grass flower” (which is a parasitic fungus that grows out of a moth caterpillar) and chunks of the dark chicken meat. The taste of the chicken was somewhat milder and sweeter than your average grocery store variety, and since it was chopped it was interesting to extract small bits of bone from each spoonful.

Menu item #C31: Lamb testicles stir fried w/onion and peppers

Menu item #C31: Lamb testicles stir fried w/onion and peppers

It was a pleasure to sample Hop Woo’s shark fin soup (menu item #36) once again before the California state ban takes effect; the brew was thick and bubbling hot with the bamboo sprouts and shark having more firm texture than the last bowl, the gilded trivet creating a regal presentation at the table. The last soup was Chef Liang’s pride and joy, a rare dish that few get to enjoy – deer penis soup. The soup came to the table in a covered pumpkin-shaped ceramic tureen that added an air of mystery to the contents; Lupe brought out a plate with the dried ingredients used in the creation of the dish, including wolfberries, “dragon eyes” (longan fruit), red dates, ho shou wu (an herb resembling thick twigs), dark black cao radix that looked like chunks of burnt rubber, paper-like strips of ribbed du zhong (eucommia bark), and the pièce de résistance – Bambi’s manhood. Initially the brew was touted as an energy tonic (it was consumed by Chinese athletes at the 2008 Summer Olympics), but as with most Chinese herbs each of the ingredients had additional medicinal purposes. When the cover was lifted off the tureen, the soup was a black, watery pool that was so dark that we couldn’t see any of the secrets held deep inside. The soup ladled into bowls looked like coffee; because of the dried fruit used it had a sweet aroma and an equally sweet taste, and seemed more appropriate as a hot drink than a soup.

Hop Woo's signature house special lobster, menu item #S1

Hop Woo's signature house special lobster, menu item #S1

Once the soup courses were finished, Chef Liang brought out more substantial dishes (menu item #C31) – the first was what is often referred to as “lamb eggs”, although they are the southernmost orbs that hang behind the male lamb. One of our guests referred to the lamb progeny as Rocky Mountain Oysters, although Catskill Mountain Oysters would probably be more appropriate. The testes were sliced into medallions, the largest of which had the diameter of a half-dollar with a firm texture and the appearance of a dark water chestnut. These imparted a nutty flavor (pun intended) without any undercarriage funk with the flavor enhanced by the yellow and green onion, bell pepper, chiles, and basil they were stir fried with.  More traditional meat items included stir-fried filet mignon strips with asparagus in a black pepper sauce (menu item #86) and Secret Menu item #5 – deer meat stir fried with leeks and star melon, a flavorful favorite.

Menu item #C12: Frog w/spicy salt

Menu item #C12: Frog w/spicy salt

Just when we assumed there was no food left in the kitchen a platter emerged from the swinging door that looked like the massacre of a lobster village; several neatly bisected lobster were laid in Esther Williams poses on the serving dish, nestled in a bed of stir-fried noodles with their claws neatly arranged at the rim. The house special lobster (menu item #S1) is Hop Woo’s specialty and with the superb taste and incredible price tag (under $10) one has to wonder why they even have to put up large banners advertising it. I can’t even begin to deconstruct the sauce, although garlic and chiles were certainly present in the thick gravy clinging on to the tender and sweet exposed meat. For those imagining that there’s a freezer with these pre-cooked crustaceans in the back, the tank of wistful-looking lobsters over the table is a dead giveaway that they’re beyond fresh.

Menu item #D33: the colossal Mixed Fruit Ice Cream Plate

Menu item #D33: the colossal Mixed Fruit Ice Cream Plate

Despite our Roberto Duran pleas of “Mo mas!” and insistence from Chef Liang that we were done, a mammoth bowl was placed in the middle of the table that was as colorful as it was formidable. The behemoth Mixed Fruit Ice Cream Plate (menu item #D33) was a festive frozen concoction of Himalayan proportions; tiny cubes of fruit gelatin lay strewn across a bed of shaved ice with dark grass jelly and white coconut jelly providing contrast to the brightly-hued field. This was topped with 6 huge scoops of strawberry ice cream that played pyramid base to a couple of mammalian scoops of mango ice cream, each strategically topped with a maraschino cherry half; the whole playground was then drizzled with a coconut sauce. The grass and coconut jellies played off the other sweet ingredients well and although we couldn’t be faulted for trying, we had already hit a food wall, throwing in the towel and going down for the count.

A visit to Hop Woo is always an adventure and I think Linda and Anna may have walked away like kids after their first trip to the circus. With every visit I wonder how Chef Liang can possibly top the previous culinary experience, and yet he always manages to deliver the goods. If your curiosity gets the better of you, come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination.

Hop Woo
845 N. Broadway Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34°3’48.88″N 118°14’16.05″W

See images from Val’s latest visit to Hop Woo in Chinatown / Los Angeles, California

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by Hop Woo.

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Night Of The Iguana

Iguana
Central and South America

The plated iguana stew with yuca frites

The plated iguana stew with yuca frites

I have three pet peeves that make me cringe each time they are executed by food writers – the first being the mortal sin of using the possessive apostrophe for plurality; the second is lauding the authenticity of a dish that isn’t even close (e.g., gushing over how the pork belly in merlot reduction with Serbian pule cheese poutine at Hot Chef Restaurant is just like Canadiens eat in Montréal); and the third is describing something other than chicken as “tasting like chicken”. In regards to the third peeve, I am willing to look the other way when it comes to the yard bird’s very distant cousin, the iguana. While other reptiles such as alligators and turtles have more complex flavors, the iguana’s mild taste is more reminiscent of chicken than any other animal. The thought of seeing a whole iguana basting on a spit rotisserie or having its clawed arms being slid off skewers at your favorite churrascaria would send most people over the edge, but in more manageable butchered and trimmed pieces it could barely be distinguished from chicken with the exception of the color and texture.

A female green iguana in Key Biscayne, Florida

A female green iguana in Key Biscayne, Florida

Although it is a formidable-looking creature, the iguana is not generally aggressive, which makes it a popular choice as a pet. Its sharp teeth are designed for tearing leaves (the iguana is strictly an herbivore, unable to process animal protein); its jaws are capable of delivering a painful bite, but the iguana rarely does so unless threatened. It is more likely to use its tail (which is often longer than its body) as a whip, and may also defend itself with two pairs of sharp claws, but in most cases flight wins out over fight – they are superb swimmers and excellent climbers (spending a great deal of their time tree-borne), but are built sturdy enough to endure drops from a tree that would kill a person. The most popular species of the reptile is the green iguana, which originated in the equatorial region of South America, migrating north into the Caribbean and Central America. The name “green iguana” is often a misnomer, with representative animals displaying a wide variety of colors including green, blue, red, orange and black depending on their geographic location.

The makings for a Caribbean iguana stew

The makings for a Caribbean iguana stew

Over the past few decades, the green iguana has become a major problem as an invasive species in the northern islands of the Caribbean, the Rio Grande Valley in Texas and southern Florida. Most of these illegal aliens were pets or zoo specimens that were either released into the wilds of suburban Florida when they grew too large and unmanageable (a mature green iguana can reach a length of about 5 feet from nose to tail) or were clever enough to devise their own escape from captivity; other immigrants arrived as stowaways on ships carrying produce throughout the Caribbean. Like the nutria (another South American illegal) in Louisiana, the green iguana is now regarded as a pest since it is a lean, green, eating machine, prompting local governments in Puerto Rico and Florida to implement programs that allow the reptile to be captured or hunted for food.

Rinsing the skinned, gutted iguana

Rinsing the skinned, gutted iguana

I recently acquired a skinned, gutted and frozen iguana from ExoticMeatMarket.net that was sourced from Puerto Rico; the carcass was intact save for its head, feet and a long section of tail and curled up in a plastic bag with approximately the same circumference as a basketball. I had underestimated the unfurled size of the animal and had to rethink my original intention of roasting it whole. Caribbean cultures where the iguana is regularly consumed as “bamboo chicken” or “tree chicken” generally cut the lizard into pieces for cooking; in parts of Mexico, it is often barbecued or grilled whole. I opted for the former option and chose to make a Caribbean-influenced stew, bringing the reptile and all the necessary ingredients to friend, foodie and multimedia food personality Eddie Lin‘s house where he regularly allows me to desecrate his well-equipped kitchen. Since the iguana has a mild flavor, I chose ingredients that would suggest the taste of the islands or be available in the iguana’s habitable range – a coconut (which I planned to milk for the broth); mangoes, hearts of palm, and chayote squash (to be diced and added for texture and flavor); Serrano chiles for kick; allspice, cinnamon, and cloves to approximate a mild jerk seasoning; and dried hibiscus flowers (a favorite of the iguana itself) added for zest.

Caribbean iguana stew, ready to serve

Caribbean iguana stew, ready to serve

I butchered the iguana into chicken dinner-sized pieces and browned them in a pot, adding the rest of the ingredients and slow cooking it on a lower heat after bringing the pot to a boil. I had retained the forelimbs and cut them apart at the joints for a simple fry in the wok to try to get an approximation of the basic taste of the meat. Eddie accepted the honor of frying the iguana in the style of what he called “iguana wings”, adding only a little salt, pepper and garlic. While being almost identical in appearance to chicken wings, the texture was more like that of a turkey leg and the meat was darker; since iguana is high in protein and ultra-lean I was expecting it to be dry, but the flesh was moist and juicy. The taste was virtually indistinguishable from chicken, which prompts the question, “Then why even eat it?”; the answer, of course, is that if Frank Perdue or John Tyson had decided to factory farm iguana instead of chicken we wouldn’t even be having this discussion.

Iguana wings with salt, pepper and garlic

Iguana wings with salt, pepper and garlic

Since this was an experiment of grand proportions, I was somewhat apprehensive as to how the stew would turn out. As a side dish, I cut a yucca root into fries which I made in the wok; throughout the Caribbean, yucca root appears in dishes with similar usage to potatoes, although it has a firmer, starchier consistency and so I thought it would be a good accoutrement. Eddie artistically plated the stew adding a garnish of fresh cilantro and Jenga-stacking the yuca frites in front; the moment of truth had arrived. The flavors of the ingredients permeated the meat and the smell from the mango, coconut and spices was intoxicating. The Serrano chile added a mild burn that finished each bite and the pear-like chayote remained firm-fleshed, providing texture and borrowing taste.

I was not as doubtful about the finished product with the iguana as I was with our recently-prepared nutria, in part because aside from a dubious claim of funkiness by Anthony Bourdain, there are very few stories regarding iguana meat imparting an undesirable flavor. I would easily eat iguana again at any available opportunity; perhaps the next time I wanna be in Tijuana eating barbecued iguana I’ll simply order another lizard online.

GALLERY: See images from the iguana dinner that Val prepared along with Deep End Dining’s Eddie Lin

Watch the Eddie Lin’s KCRW Good Food video of Val preparing an iguana dinner

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