Tomorrow night we are feeding dinner to Bonbon Oiseau and her husband Jim (or Heem, as the cat calls him). I was thinking something roast chicken-y or chicken bouillabaisse-y (better than it sounds), but this evening I picked up David Chang's Momofuku book, to start reading properly, and have had my whole system turned from France to somewhere in Asia via New York. I don't want French roast chickens. I want some bite and some vinegar and some sweet and some hot. I want a Momofuku roast chicken!! Except they don't do one.
Tant pis. I will invent one and send the recipe to them (yeah, as if). It's a wonderful book, despite the expletive-laced intro and commentary, which feels as though it is trying too hard. I swear, so why doesn't it work in a book about food, even as the style and the food embody - or try to embody? - a departure from what has been? Anyway, it may as well be Momofukyu.
I love Momofuku. It's real food with brains, and the book is one that inspires, entertains and educates. And makes me hungry. The best sort. Even if it has messed with dinner plans. I'm going to have to give it a serious think.
The pate above? Made in August and frozen. Perfect for banh mi for lunch tomorrow.
Now I must go and pickle some Enoki mushrooms for a salad with apples we'll find at the Borough Hall farmers' market tomorrow.