Shola and Collin travel to the home of the soulful bowlful, Cafe Diem. Both of them are already on the Diem Team4Life, and they decide to let out the secret of the greatness to all of us. Serious soup beyond the click, and more badass photography.

Pho is the new hoagie. Pho is the new pizza. That’s all there is to it. No, not for delivery, but for territoriality and loyalty. We all have our favorites, and believe our spot is the best. No one talks down on our Phomaker of choice, lest they be smoten. Seriously.

Among the faves in town are Pho 75, Pho Cali, Pho Ba Le, and Pho Ha. But off of the beaten path in the Pho District lies my favorite, and as it happens, the favorite of my fellow Umamihunter, Shola. Cafe Diem. Looks like someone’s house from the outside, and has space for about 15 inside, where English is an afterthought. Packed to the gunnels at lunch time, which is always a good sign. For as recession-proof as Pho is in the first place, the prices here are about a dollar cheaper than anywhere else.

We order a bowl of Pho Dac Biet (original old school beef) and Bún Bò Huế (spicy version) to get the ball rolling. Shola is always looking around the room, checking out customers, and what they’re eating. His mind is always moving 100 miles a minute keeping up with his culinary surroundings. ‘Oh, extra beef cubes, please’ he says to the waitress as she walks away. Man is quite particular. He gives a nod and greeting to one of the owners, and our Vietnamese Iced Tea was on the way.

‘Best soup in the city’, he says. I agree, but also throw Asia @ Cafe’s Spicy Curry Chicken into the ring for the title of Best Soup Of Ever. He agrees too, thinking of that beautiful burn and fluffy dough, sponging up all that broth and chicken on the bone. Funny thing, they’re right across the street from where we sit.

‘You ever eat Morimoto’s Chicken Soup?’, he continues. I shake my head. I usually don’t hit up Morimoto, and when I do, it’s not often for soup.

‘I bring a poached egg with me when I eat that.’

What?

‘Yeah, I bring a mini thermos with a poached egg in it.’ , he replies. Dead fucking serious man looking at me. You heard it here, folks: B.Y.O.E. at Morimoto.

Our food arrives in monstrous china bowls, teeming with beef, rice noodles, and parsley. Mine is swimming with fire-engine red pepper pieces and a slick of orange flame across the surface. He dumps in most of the fixins they provide, the basil and peppers, and a healthy amount of bean sprouts. I am a fan of kiss of lime and just a few peppers. Not big on the sprouts in my soup, but a couple add a nice crunch.

Flavor tour-de-force. It’s truly the best broth anywhere, deeper than a ten dollar hooker. Umami Tsunami. I ask and implore all of you who live by the 75 to stop over a few blocks and live like this. Not for the faint of heart, though, as ham hocks swim in every bowl they serve. Tendon, knobby knuckles, and everything ugly that tastes so good.

So the question: ‘Why is this broth so much better?’

‘Well, Pho Ha is too watery, same with 75.’, Shola starts. This definitely has a lot of MSG. And they obviously spend much more time letting the broth do it’s thing. Also, these guys use a much fresher meat, and don’t use the fermented kind most other places do. It’s just that much better.’

Be forewarned on the spicy side, though, that shit burns like a herpes flareup. Shola took a picture of me dealing with the soup, but it’s not very attractive and makes me look like a date rapist. I’ll save you from the sight.

The noodles that come with the Dac Biet are the thinner rice noodles, which I prefer. The spicy version has the thicker noodles, which help transport the spice a little better, more surface area to latch on to. The chicken version is also quite special, but they don’t make it every day. But don’t bother calling to see if they have it, just show up and get lucky. So the next time you’re making a jaunt to the District, give Diem a shot before heading to the P.O.P.E. for a few. Can’t imagine a better way to spend a chilly autumn night.

After 2 Asian trips in a row, look for our next stop to be something teeming with parmesan cheese or anchovies. UMAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

Cafe Diem, 1031 S. 8th St.  (215) 923-8347

In today’s edition of our ongoing series, The Search For Umami, Collin and Shola visit Rangoon. One of the most overlooked restaurants in the city, Rangoon has been the city’s only spot for Burmese food in the metro area for many years. Extreme deliciousness and badass photography follow the jump. Get in it.

When we talked about what stop number 2 would be, my dining companion said ‘Rangoon’ without any hesitation. ‘They’re fantastic. Have you eaten there?’ was the inquiry posed. Before he could finish the words, fond memories of coconut milk rice and shrimp filled my foodrolodex from dinners past. My disgraceful absence from this wonderful eatery for over 2 years was about to come to an end, and I got all Pavlovian until the day of our meal.

As mentioned in my first post, asian food is chock full of deliciousness in the form of our elusive buddy umami. UMAMIIIIIIIIII! I love yelling that word. It’s almost a culinary battlecry. While I quite enjoyed our jaunt to Tastee D’s, the meal ahead of me was one hell of a flavortextureexperience that pushed Rangoon into my top 5 restaurants in Philly. That’s right.

The stunningly gorgeous Papaya Salad came out first, raising expectations way high for the rest of the meal. Julienned veggies and serious burn from a tamarind sauce sat atop fried watercress and razor thin pieces of papaya created a sensory explosion so bright and bubbly, so sadly seasonal. Everyone is on the hunt for the best burger/wings/hoagie in the city. Sometimes I go on a hunt for the best salad around, and lo, it’s right here. Crunchy with left turn flavors and a smooth finish added to aesthetic beauty makes a serious fucking dish.

Shola ordered every plate for us, barely opening the menu. While that first dish wasn’t supremely umami, it was a hell of a way to start. He knew the strengths of the kitchen, speaking in reverence outside the establishment of what was to come.

“The Lentil Fritters are amazing. They’re a textural tour-de-force. A simple bar snack that would kill in any restaurant outside of Chinatown and put them on the map’. The little deep fried lumps of ugly beauty arrived next, crumbly and toothsome at the same time, dense yet light. The dipping sauce sidecar of sweet and savory was almost unnecessary, but added depth to the flavor. Umami! The hint and breath of mint ground into the filling of the fritter really lifted the whole dish from ‘on fire’ to ‘sweet heat’. Word of warning, if you ask for it hot, you’re getting it with a searing quality that’ll slap the shit out of your tongue and step on it with a stiletto heel.

 The deconstructed Pork Fried Rice is possibly the best rendition of fried rice in town. Separated by sections on your plate, the egg, vegetables, pork, and rice are to be blended after delivered to your table. It keeps the veggies crisp, mixmaster your elements. Build your own adventure. The deconstruction also allows you to really taste flavor layering in it’s simplest form. Grilled and fried, the pork has a burnt bitter crisp edge housing almost rare and exceedingly juicy flesh inside. The eggs add the fatty slickness, and the rice was teeming with fish sauce creating an umami layering concept that should be tasted by all evangelists of the fried rice persuasion. I’m on that team, I’m the starting shortstop. 

Lastly, we got in with the Kung Pao Chicken. Yes, seemingly a safe choice done a million times, this one was different. The slivers of chicken were browned beyond belief, a deep and rich color I hadn’t seen in any other Kung Pao chicken before.

‘That’s what makes all the flavors sing here’, Shola mentions, ‘they caramelize and candy the chicken which pushes the savory elements to the front’. He was right, The dish was spot on perfect, so comforting. A gift basket full of puppies kind of comfort, a hot fudge sundae. A spectacular rendition of Kung Pao chicken with ginger and dried chilies that are cooked up separate and then added later to seep flavor through the poultry while the meat rests.

As the hunt for umami continues, our stop at Rangoon was quite special. I always fashioned myself a Chinatown Obsessive, and will not make the same mistake of being absent for 2 years from this savory kingdom. The depth of flavor and variety in the menu is truly special and seldom found with this much consistency.

Rangoon, 112 N 9th St  (215) 829-8939

In this new series on Phoodie, our very own Collin Flatt goes on the road with Shola Olunloyo of Studiokitchen fame to search for that elusive 5th taste, umami. Generally regarded as the ‘savory’ taste, umami can be found in anything that has deliciousness. The trip starts at Tastee D’s, the new Nigerian eatery in the old Django space. Pictures and more after the jump.

As foodies grow in sophistication and experimentation, it’s no wonder that the science of food and cooking comes into play more each day that passes during our hunt for good eats. For awhile, our focus was lost on trends and fads, but we have more recently returned to discovering dishes that are just downright yummy without the pretention and window dressing.

Shola Olunloyo has made a career out of pushing boundaries and stimulating all of the senses through his food and photography. I have had the pleasure of eating victuals prepared by the man himself, and not just the high-end, super-slick stuff you see on his site. He cooks a mean roasted chicken.

He came to me with the idea of sampling dishes from around the city that are high in umami, the 5th taste. ‘Savory’ is the best way to describe umami, but it’s more complicated than that. Umami occurs naturally in foods high in proteins, like meats and cheese. The taste is caused by detection of glutamic acids and can be enhanced by catalysts such as garlic, and believe it or not, MSG. Originally discovered at Tokyo Imperial University while researching the strong flavor in seaweed broth, we now create synthesized umami to enhance the flavors of foods that need a little ‘boost’.

‘Deliciousness needs stratification, not reduction’, says Olunloyo. ‘Layer your flavors, don’t subtract from them. It adds depth and complexity. The best chicken stock ever was made by Alain Ducasse. 3 chickens and bouillon cubes, that’s it. But in those bouillon cubes is the big secret. MSG.’

We discussed these concepts and ideas over a few dishes at the newly opened Tastee D’s, a fantastic new offering on 4th street where the now defunct Django made its home.  My dining companion and Adedotun “Dot” Adepoju, the proprietor, discuss their homeland and background. They exchange a few pleasantries and get right down to business.

‘Where do you get your spices?’, Olunloyo says to get the ball rolling. As they go back and forth, I’m already digging into the moin moin on the table, a bean paste pie that has superb texture and a real roundness to the flavor. In other words, I could eat a whole bowl sitting in front of reruns of Seinfeld. But how is there so much flavor in a simple pudding?

‘There’s dried shrimp in there, man. Shrimp and shellfish are high in umami. Dried shrimp are a staple of Nigerian cooking, too.’, Olunloyo remarks. ‘Fish sauce is just fermented fish, and full of umami. Same with soy sauce.’

So it’s more than meats and cheeses as I had originally thought. It explains my gravitational pull toward Asian foods of all kinds, and a need to be close to Chinatown. It’s fucking Umamiland over there. I’ve got Pho in my blood and blood in my Pho. And now I see why.

Our next dish was Suya, which is usually served on a skewer and is streetfoodlegit. Like the pupusa in Belize, it’s a 2 A.M. Wawa hoagie. Beef pounded within an inch of its life and grilled until slightly tough, rubbed with a mixture of heat and peanut, it truly was delicious. My favorite dish of the night. Again, the meat has a serious roundness to it, regardless of what should be a challenging texture. The fattiness provided by the spice base of ground nuts and seeds really slicks down the whole experience.

‘This is right on. I mean right on. Lots of memories and nostalgia in the dish. Spices are perfect.’ Shola is happy. ‘I really need to do some Nigerian cooking now.’ Shola is inspired. Good sign for the proprietor of Tastee D’s. ‘Nigerian grilling is much closer to Japanese style than Jamaican, and you can see that here.’

They go back into discussions about cooking execution and how he will make his meat pies in the future (apparently Dot is going to be bringing in someone to make all the meat pies to order in the near future, sounds delicious) but I’m too busy shredding the goat to really pay attention. Very tender and intensely game-y, it’s some of the best goat I have eaten in the city. Much better than a lot of the recent trips I have taken to eat Indian. As usual, served on the bone, I do wish there was a little more meat to go around. But, I can’t complain because it’s tasty as hell. Served slathered in traditional Nigerian tomato and pepper sauce, I discarded the fork for fingers, because metal and bone aren’t dining companions. I am also slathered in sauce shortly thereafter.

Accompanied by Efo Elegusi, a wonderful spinach and pumpkinseed concoction that reminds me of a terse creamed spinach, and Jollof rice, a precursor to jambalaya that have all spent time around or inspired by the tomato sauce I found on the goat meat.

‘That tomato sauce is the base for almost all of our foods in Nigeria’, Shola mentions as I unceremoniously inhale the rest of my plate, merely grunting in response to his attempts at educating the uneducatable. I’m listening, of course, but he could’ve been telling me who was behind the JFK assassination and that he finally figured out how to make the Flux Capacitor a reality and I still wouldn’t have cared. That was some good rice.

‘I think the salt was a little off in the Elegusi’, I decided. ‘Too much, but still delicious’. Shola didn’t even need to think for a second. ‘That’s the cube stock, which is high in savory flavor. Might have been touched a bit by the tomato base.’

At the end of the meal, we parted ways, and I was left to remember all the dishes I loved so dearly, that I just couldn’t put my finger on why they were so. damn. good. It’s never been an ingredient, it just tasted like perfection. Umami, it seems, is the path to deliciousness in my brain. Right next to that wrinkle in my gray matter that really longs for the first day of the season I hear those dogs singing ‘Jingle Bells’ on the radio. I can’t explain it, it just is.

Our next stop on the search for Umami: Rangoon. I love that place, and haven’t been in years. The only Burmese restaurant in town, with a few dishes on the menu that really look to be swimming in savory. I can hear those dogs barking already.

– Collin Flatt