DAZZLED BY FUSION

I've had a few "whoa" dining moments in my life. Not as many as you'd think, given my food writing career, but enough to make each one distinctly special. My first bites of tomato pie from Delorenzo's on Hudson St. in Trenton in 1992. Escargot in Champagne Butter at the original Le Bec-Fin in Philadelphia in 1980. Square pizza topped with porcini mushrooms from DiFara in Brooklyn in 2004. Buffalo shrimp from Frenchy's in Clearwater, FL in 1995. Buffalo Bill's Pumpkin Ale and a plate of nachos at Isaac Newton's in Newtown, PA in 1996. Shrimp wonton noodle soup at NY Noodletown in NYC's Chinatown on more visits that I can count.

Lsst Saturday I had another startling "whoa" moment at a new restaurant in town, Inchin's Bamboo Garden, a new outpost of the 11-locations chain from, of all places, Georgia.

The restaurant concept boasts a fusion of Indian and Chinese cuisines (from which the fictional Inchin name is derived), with some Thai and Malaysian notes thrown in for good measure,  But this food is nothing like any Asian food I've ever had before.

The backstory of this small chain is based on the 18th century Chinese migration to India, specifically to the ports of Calcutta and Madras. And it is the substantial Chinese population and influence in Calcutta that inspires the menu at Inchin's.

The photo above gives only a hint of the atmospheric decor of the places, housed in what used to be the decades-old Rider college hangout bar, The Carousel, and briefly a Chinese buffet restaurant.

Moody statuary exaggerated faces greet you at the entrance and vestibule, dark woods, bamboo and carved teak decorate the walls and help create several different dining spaces, and set the escapist tempo of the place. A solicitous host and waitstaff (maybe a little too solicitous) great you quickly and eagerly. OK, points for enthusiasm.  They have a lot to be enthusiastic about.

The menu is huge and highlighted by an abundance of vegetarian dishes and options. The kids ordered egg drop soup and coconut soup with chicken, from a menu of 19 different soups (9 non-vegetarian, 10 vegetarian), and both bore no resemblance to any such soup in a Chinese or Thai restaurant that I've ever seen. The egg drop soup was snowy white with a rich chicken broth aroma and a tamarind note that elevated it several levels above the Chinese soup staple. The dark orange coconut soup was perfumed with galangal and had sliced dark mushrooms and dark meat chicken and a growing heat level courtesy of jalapeno threads that rested on the bottom of the bowl.  It proved even a bit too spicy for my daughter, who can hold her own when it comes eating the heat of most Szechuan dishes.

An order of "veg coins" brought small pancakes, slightly bigger than poker chips, damn near drowned in a "hot garlic" sauce and shreds of onions, red and green peppers. On the menu the hot garlic sauce is billed as "spicy", which is on the lower end of the heat scale at Inchin's ("very spicy" and "fiery" are the hotter settings).The plump patties, made from shredded carrot, cauliflower and squash, were greaselessly fried and the sauce packed quite a punch, and was a preview of how hot things can get here. Chili Chicken, touted on the menu as the house specialty, was a definite notch higher in heat (and listed as "very spicy"---sweet Jesus,  how hot can "fiery" be??)and the equal of anything I've had at notable Szechuan eateries such as Szechuan House in Hamilton and the Han Dynasty restaurants in the Philadelphia area. The sauce was sweet and tongue-numbing hot and studded with green and red peppers and scallion rings.  Mongolian Chicken was white meat chicken tossed in a sticky sauce of caramelized sugar and onions over a nest of puffy fried taro root shreds, and the kids gobbled it up.I kinda liked it too.I ordered beef with hot garlic sauce and it looked to have the same sauce that graced the veg coins, but this dish's heat level was turned up quite few notches, which really enhanced the beef slices but put a serious hurt and sweat on my head.

My daughter really took charge of the menu here, showing her growing confidence in restaurant dining, and ordered Burnt Garlic Chili Fried Rice with Vegetables and Singapore Noodles with vegges for the table. Good choices for the most part. The rice was a nice departure, studded with browned garlic bits and crushed chillies, it has a spicy undertone which cut some of the extreme heat of the entrees, while the Singapore noddles were actually a bit dull, lacking the usual yellow curry punch that most versions have. But again, along with some bowls of white rice, the noddles were a good foil for the spice wallop of the chicken and beef dishes.

But the overall experience, the atmosphere, the vibrant color and composition of the dishes and the startling heat level of what we ate, combined with the fusion of Asian flavors in ways we had just never experienced before in any Chinese, Indian, Thai or Malaysian restaurant, were flat out dazzling.

There are 10 other Inchin's Bamboo Gardens in the US so far, from Atlanta to Austin, Cleveland to Columbus, Dallas (2) , Raleigh, Scottsdale, San Fransisco and Seattle. I would hope they would be at the same culinary level as we found this new one in Lawrenceville.  Don't hesitate to get to one. You'll be dazzled.
But bring your best asbestos tongue.

THE LAST WALTZ ON HUDSON STREET

Watch live streaming video from trentonian at livestream.com

Trenton food history changes tonight. Delorenzo's Tomato Pies of Hudson St., of whom I have written in the Philadelphia Daily News once and here many times, is closing tonight after 64 years. Owners Gary and Eileen Amico say they need a rest, need to step back and assess, and maybe contemplate a move someday to Pennsylvania (to Newtown, PA is the persistant rumor).

Tonight, after I get some dinner into the kids (rigatoni with vodka sauce and turkey meatballs), I may try to make my way down to Chamberburg, if nothing else to shake Gary and Eileen's hands and thank them for all of the great tomato pies they've served me over the past 20 years. And for teaching and supporting their son Sam, who keeps the Delorenzo's Tomato Pies flame alive at his own place in Robbinsville, NJ.

But check the video above. It may still be a live stream when you visit this blog, because the very hip Trenton paper, The Trentonian (full disclosure: they feature this blog on their website, trentonian.com) are streaming live from inside a packed Delorenzo's to document this historic, bittersweet night in Trenton history, with reporter Joey Kulkin doing his level best to capture the feelings and comments of the regulars and lucky souls who waited outside all day (some camping out starting on Sunday morning)and braved 20-degree weather and winds to have the last tomato pies on Hudson Street. For the record, the final pie was a large half sausage, half pepperoni pie, made by Gary Amico himself. A crowd of about 20 or so stood and watched, snapped photos and videos of the moment, and applauded loudly. A priceless moment.

History tonight, dear reader. And you can watch some of it, maybe even live. Bring that last pie close to the camera, Joey, one last time from Hudson Street.

A Tale of Two Tomato Pies

I had the incredible good fortune to sample two exceptional examples of the tomato pie-making art a while back, and it was almost too much of a good thing. That might explain why it's taken me so long to write about it.

While on a brief business jaunt into Philly one day, I made a side trip to the Conshohocken Bakery in, of course, Conshohocken,PA, to grab some of their famous tomato pie. Back in 2007, I wrote about the bakery in a Daily News article about the variations of tomato pie that exist in the Philly area, and Conshohocken's falls into the category of "bakery tomato pie", the room-temperature sheet pan pie topped simply with slightly chunky tomato sauce, olive oil and a dusting of grated cheese.

Conshohocken's pie is, to my taste, the best of the lot, in a field that includes the famous Marchiano's in Manayunk, Coropolese Bakery in Norristown, Michaelangelo's in Warminster and Gaeta's in NE Philly. I had sampled Conshohocken's tomato pie only once since I wrote the Daily News piece, and the bakery's arrival on Twitter and its tempting Twitphotos of their breads and those tomato pies had me determined to arrange to bring it home. The folks at Conshohocken set aside a large pie for me, owing to my late arrival, and I added some of their rye bread and a large loaf of Italian bread to my bag. This is a dangerous place in which to linger: before you in their small retail store sit shelves full of fresh rolls of every size, loaves of crusty bread, pastries in a pastry case, and sections of tomato pie, white pie and variations of both. The aromas of freshly baked good swirl about the place. It can be, for a bakery fanatic like me, overwhelming.

But the tomato pie is worth it. A crunchy, airy crust, glossed with olive oil. A tangy sauce spiked with basil and oregano. Fresh pecorino scattered on top. Heady stuff at room temperature. Warmed in the oven, its fragrant sauce fills the room and the cheese expands its salty nuttiness. Intoxicating stuff, and why, to my tastes, it's the region's best bakery tomato pie.

In Trenton, however, tomato pie is a religion. It is a basic Neopolitan pie composed in reverse order: dough, olive oil, mozzarella and crushed tomatoes. Baked in a hot oven to a crisp char, it melds into a thin crust with streaks of red and pale yellow, as good to look at as it is to eat.

No one does the Trenton tomato pie better than Delorenzo's of Hudson St fame, and its newer location in Robbinsville, NJ.

After a long abscence, we stopped into the Robbinsville Delorenzo's early on a busy Friday and only had to wait about 15 minutes for a table, a huge booth actually, and were quickly brought drinks and an impressive antipasto plate (below), crowded with cannelini bean salad, sweet sopresatta, fresh mozz, prosciutto di Parma, artichokes, roasted red peppers, stuffed cherry peppers, green and black olives, bread sticks and salad greens. Given the time it takes for the tomato pies to arrive after ordering, this is a terrific, brilliantly composed diversion:

The kids were a little sleepy from the drive to Robbinsville, but Sophie perked up with the breadsticks, a rare cup of birch beer and some olives. We ordered two large pies, a classic plain tomato pie and one topped with pepperoni and sweet peppers. I continue to be amazed at Robbinsville's owner/pizzaiolo Sam Amico's (a Delorenzo grandson) skill at creating an impossibly light and crispy crust that holds that perfectly judicious amount of mozzarella and crushed tomatoes, as his dad and grandfather before him. Sam has not missed a beat in Robbinsville, and he may have elevated the pie. It is as good as it has ever been.

Pepperoni & sweet peppers pie

A sausage topped tomato pie

Robbinsville owner/pizzaiolo Sam Amico


We live amid an embarassment of tomato pie riches, we do.

A SLICE of Pure Pizza Bliss

So it was the kids and I with about four hours to kill in Center City Philly. Of course they fell asleep en route, which made it easier for me to cruise Center City, Bella Vista, Washington Square West and check out all the new places that have cropped up in the past year. It's been a loooong time since I've been able to spend any time in the Italian Market area, and it's just amazes me how many Asian and Mexican places are all around now. I've been away too long. $1.50 tacos all day on Tuesdays at La Lupe! Damn, the kids are still asleep. So I start my search for Bebe, the new 'cue spot on 9th St. And I CAN'T FIND IT!
I did find myself on 10th St. at some point, and watched the sad spectacle of Shank & Evelyn's being emptied out, a small forlorn crowd watching from across the street. God, I used to love that place. I'm sure Center City denizens will be glad when they re-open on 15th St near Sansom, but I also drove by that storefront later in the day, and it looks like a dreary little location. Maybe Ev knows something we don't.
Tried to check out the soon-to-reopen (nee Sansom Street) Oyster House, but it was covered in plywood, concealing all the interior construction.
While I was on 10th St. though, I did drive by SLICE, the raved-about pizza joint (10th & Federal, 215-463-0868), but it was yet to open. Parked across the street in front of Bitar's Bakery and scanned the newspapers I brought along, picked up the Jim Rome Show on a radio station in Wilmington, DE, and relaxed and chuckled while the kids slept. Felt like a pizza place stalker. And I was.

Within a half hour, a neon "OPEN" sign flashed on; soon we would be in business. And not soon after that, Sophie wrested herself from slumber and said the magic words: "Daddy, I have to pee." That woke Ben, conveniently enough, and giddily we walked across the street for pizza and potty breaks at SLICE.

Owner Jason Dilks was already taking orders for delivery over the phone; we quickly ordered 3 slices and found the restrooms, which led us througn the entire kitchen area where 3 other workers were chopping mounds of basil, shredding cheeses, stirring crushed tomatoes. Glorious.

With my eyes closed (or you can check the photos yourself), it was scarily close to a Delorenzo's of Trenton tomato pie. And Dilks should know; he grew up eating the stuff, and he thinks it's still the best pie in the US. Appearance-wise, he doesn't burn the crust quite like a Trenton tomato pie, but he has the flavor profile down pat. Ben and Sophie scarfed down their huge slices (we had to cut them up a bit, Jason serves a very large slice), because, like their dad, they know what the good stuff tastes like; they go ga-ga for Delorenzo's.

We chatted pizza for a while, joined by some neighborhood residents and a pressman from the Inquirer who stopped in for a slice: a random room full of pizza geeks at 3 in the afternoon.

Jason's pie is nicely thin crusted, without the random bumps and odd shapes common to Trenton pies, but the bottom was nicely charred, and the flavor was nutty-yeasty-smoky, the texture chewy. The way it's supposed to be. It's a great homage to the pizza of his youth.

And he is looking into opening a branch of SLICE in Center City. Oh you lucky Center City bastids. Jason is gonna change the way you think about pizza, and you will be spoiled forever.

Dilks says he makes a mean white clam pie, too. Guess which pie the kids and I will be trying on our next visit? Along with a traditional red, I mean. You can never get enough of pizza this good.