Old Naples Italian Restaurant, Doc's Saloon and Grill, John's Diner and a Shoofly Pie.....

I used to joke that in this town of Pennsylvania, you can defy the law and park your car perpendicular to the allocated parking space, and it won’t make a difference simply because land is aplenty here. Houses are big and far from one another, and supermarkets as well as restaurants are located miles away from the residential areas. I’m really glad that I managed to get my international driving licence prior to my departure. Or else, it would have been solely Irish food in the hotel or the limited number of restaurants nearby for 7 weeks. And when I say nearby, it’s still at least 1/4 mile away.

But I’m not complaining about the food in those restaurants, of course. In fact, in this last installment of my trip to the USA, I’m dedicating it to them - our regular afterwork spots to dine, relax and rant.


Old Naples Italian Restaurant

It’s quiet in here. I hope their business had picked up since, because it’ll be a pity if they decide to close for good. Their complimentary Country Salad is a simple recipe that works - parmesan emulsified in Italian dressing to give a creamy texture that goes well with the vegetables, peperoncini (!) and crostinis.

What made us return again and again, however, was the Seafood Spaghettini. I was skeptical at first, knowing that pomodoro will always be, well, just a light tomato sauce. And I was wrong. Perhaps it has been American-ized (like Western Chinese cuisine?) because the sauce was thick, robust in taste and hot. As the picture depicts, the variety and amount of seafood thrown in was amazing too.

The selection of dolci’s pretty good, with the raspberry cheesecake topping the list. The sourish sauce cuts through nicely that rich taste of cheese. Keep doing what you do and best of luck, Old Naples!


Doc’s Saloon and Grill

The previous visitors highly recommended the signature grilled baby back ribs but I wasn’t paying attention when they mentioned it. And I’d mistakenly ordered the prime rib instead. Doc’s Famous Prime Rib, which was roasted for 17 hours, was a good mistake though. A 3/4 pound of succulent piece of meat that was savoury ‘til the last bite. As for the French onion soup, I think the ratio of mozzarella to soup was approximately 1:1. Seriously.

John’s Diner

I get a tug at my heartstrings as I recall the countless dinners I had here. It’s more than just the delicious pickled roasted beetroot at the salad bar, seafood chowder, orange duck, ham with bone, spaghetti marsala, Philly cheesesteak, chocolate bomb cake, etc. The owners and staff (well, most of them) made us feel at home. It was just the courteous how are we doin’ today? at first and soon, conversations extended to include the weather, weekend activities and better choice of desserts. You can tell that this diner, despite the simple interior and menu, is a favourite among the locals when it still packs in a crowd even at those odd afterhours.

On my last visit in a late evening, I had a piece of Shoofly Pie, not knowing that it's actually a Pennsylvania Dutch classic dessert. The base and top usually consist mainly of brown sugar while the filling is of molasses. Despite the saccharine ingredients, the pie was surprisingly just aptly sweet. Very interesting!

And this certainly was, the perfect ending to my stint here in the USA.

Old Naples Italian Restaurant
110 Limekiln Road, PA 17070
Tel: (+1) 717 920 3627

Doc's Saloon and Grill
110 Limekiln Road, PA 17070
Tel: (+1) 717 920 3627

John's Diner
146 Sheraton Drive
New Cumberland, PA 17070
Tel: (+1) 717 774 5004

Some of the stuff I ate in NYC....

With just 2 weekends in New York, I'd decided to concentrate on visiting as many interesting sights as possible, instead of turning to the stacks of colourful city guides for a gastronomic tour. Afterall, how much can one really eat in 48 hours, right? Take it from this big eater, really.

Weekend No. 1's meals were mostly what we could find along the way - burritos, pizzas, burgers and noodles. Despite the presentation, the below bowl of ramen really tasted more Chinese than Japanese.

By the second weekend, the shutterbug died a lethargic death while the appetite grew.

Weekend No. 2 started at Momofuku Noodle Bar. Despite the modest size and simplicity of the facade, it was still easy to find, thanks to the hordes of customers gathering in and out of the restaurant. Having read David Chang's NO PHOTOGRAPHY policy at Ko (one of his many other restaurants), I asked the staff if I could take some photos of my sexy, hot plate of steamed buns. The friendly dude said, Of course!. Cool.

The thick slabs of pork belly lived up to my expectation - soft, slightly sticky thick layer of fat atop the flaky meat. It has a cleaner taste than our usual Dongbo pork. And it's not complete without their chilli sauce that's only slightly sour but (surprisingly) hot. A slice of the pork belly was included in the Momofuku Ramen too, which was great. It was more of a chicken (and perhaps pork bones too) stock than the usual tonkotsu, miso, etc. I liked the taste and named it a bowl of thinking ramen, not because it had me contemplating on the soup base but the ideas that went into making this version of ramen. Not an expert here but I've not seen ramen served with poached egg (except for the chilli pan mee in our part of the world) and shredded pork shoulder (which reminded me of the usage of minced pork in our clear soup noodles) that was pretty flavourful. I was looking forward to their soft serve of the day - snow pea (!) but the machine was down, so I settled for the chocolate chips cake truffles.

It was only on my last day here that I had my first New York bagel at the historic cafe called Zabar's on Broadway. The window seats provide a good view of the busy streets, especially in the morning when runners are seen crossing this part of upper Manhattan as parents and their kids in strollers head to their usual restaurants for brunch, and locals (I presume) returning from their morning shopping at the nearby markets or grocery stores, carrying large brown paper bags filled with fruits, vegetables and baguettes. I had their signature bagel with cream cheese and nova salmon (lightly cured and smoked), apple crumble and orange juice for breakfast that Sunday, before starting my strenuous (but fun) day at the museums along the Museum Avenue. Zabar's had an amazing display of golden bakes, which most looked rather appetizing. Ah, if only I was able to sample everything.

I was at Flor de Mayo, just a few hours before returning to Harrisburg. What attracted me to this restaurant was the description - Chino Latino cuisine. What!? Looking at the menu, I realised that there's nothing fusion, just one that offers both Chinese and Peruvian food. The Chinese menu does seem highly exotic when read in Latin but I should have known better than to order the Chow Mein de Carne Ahumada, Arroz Frito y Egg Roll, which really means roast pork chow mein, fried rice and egg roll. (-___-). On the other hand, the starter of Aquadito Chicken (a Peruvian cilantro rice soup) was bold on flavours. I found some recipes on the web that include beer in the stock. Sounds good, doesn't it?

A brief moment at Wall Street later, I was back at the Port Authority bus terminal, awaiting to board my bus to return to Harrisburg. Into the first hour of the journey, while searching for some reading materials in my bag, I found the remaining half of my apple crumble from Zabar's. And I happily munched away, reminiscing the short but fantastic weekends in New York. It'll be more about the food next time, I promised myself.

Momofuku Noodle Bar
171 First Avenue (Between 10th and 11th St.)

Zabar's
2245 Broadway, 80th St.

Flor de Mayo
484, Amsterdam Avenue

Central Park, New York City

Perhaps I was the only one in the group that wanted to visit Strawberry Fields at Central Park, where a memorial was built for John Lennon. I’m glad I did. It’s veered westward from Sheep Meadow and some climbing is required. A round mosaic, decorated with the word “Imagine” in the center, basically defines the memorial. That late afternoon, as we ascended the rather hilly path, a group was gathering around the mosaic, strumming and singing to the tunes of Imagine, Hey Jude, Let It Be and other timeless songs from the Beatles.

You might find this unbelievable, but the truth is, I had a feeling that I’d meet Yoko Ono at Strawberry Fields that day. We were walking down the hill, making our way to the Lake and the Great Lawn when we crossed paths with this woman in a striking white suit, donning one of those funky hats spotted on celebrities and clubbers these days. We met face to face and naturally, gave each other a smile. Unmistakably, it was Yoko Ono. Not intimidated, but rather out of respect for one’s privacy, I’d decided not ask for a photo with her. But seeing how willing she was with an American couple, I went up to her and politely requested for one. And she obliged.

I guess my colleagues were confused as to why I wanted to have a photo taken with Yoko Ono. It was nothing about being starstruck but really, to capture this significant moment in Central Park celebrating the music and life of a great musical talent, mourning his tragic death at the nearby Dakota Apartments and meeting his wife, Yoko Ono.

And this is just one of the many fond memories of Central Park, including.....


.....resting on one of the many benches around the Bethesda Fountain

.....seeing another ancient Egyptian obelisk, Cleopatra’s Needle, after Paris and Luxor

.....soaking in the sun, just like them New Yorkers

.....the beautiful view of the Lake

.....being mesmerized by the music and passion, the joie de vivre

.....wishing I can do my regular 10 km runs here in the future

.....and meeting a fairy in the park.

For me, Central Park is New York, where life is fun, exciting and full of possibilities. To cover this area in a day seems difficult, if you plan to include the nearby Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim along Fifth Avenue, and the American Museum of Natural History on 79th Street, Central Park West. And these upper Manhattan museum.....

.....are worthy of a brand new post.

Manhattan, New York City

The journey to New York City from Harrisburg isn't that different from my weekly return trips to Kuala Lumpur from Singapore. Both take about 5 hours, with monotonous sights along the way. Passengers consist of many ethnics, mostly looking minutely into their watches, sighing and hoping that the journey will end soon. And there are those that, like me, doze off into the first hour of the ride.

We were at New Jersey, about to cross the Lincoln Tunnel when I was awakened by the blinding sun. And Manhattan looked stunning from across the Hudson River. I could just imagine the fun weekend there - circling in the maze of famous skyscrapers, in the company of colourful New Yorkers (and visitors).

The crossing was slowed down by the many vehicles making their way into Manhattan. The good thing was that the Port Authority Bus Terminal, along the Eight Avenue, was not too far from the tunnel's exit.

New York has an interesting coordinate system in locating a particular address. Seventh Avenue, 42nd Street (pretty cool, isn't it?) for example, is where the perpetually crowded Times Square is located. This is a happy place, where tourists come to immerse in the vibrancy that is New York. Not forgetting other icons such as Central Park, the Rockefeller Center, Grand Central Station, Wall street, Fifth Avenue, Broadway, Chinatown, Radio City Hall, Madison Square Garden, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, etc. Stretching further, we find the Ellis and Liberty Islands. I'm sure we've heard about at least a dozen of these names from the movies.

Many sang about NYC - Frank Sinatra, Christopher Cross, Jay-Z & Alicia Keys, Billy Joel, John Mayer, Tom Waits, Fleetwood Mac, The Strokes, Bruce Springsteen, etc. There must be something that makes this place so incredibly inspiring, right?

New York City, such a beautiful disease (New York City, Norah Jones).

At the hotel's frontdesk, I asked of the subway's schedule. The subways run 24 hours, said the kind receptionist.

Coming from my part of the world, diversity is nothing new but here in NYC, I've met more Hispanic and African Americans than I had in the last 30 years. Diversity is a gift and I can't think of a better way to celebrate that than to laugh at ourselves (and others) at the many stand-up comedy clubs, a staple entertainment here. Many had cautioned me of the rowdiness of certain groups and high crime rate but I guess the trend is similar given any big city in the world. In fact, I felt safer here than in some European cities that I'd visited in the past.

On a Saturday night, at the 86th floor of the Empire State Building, I witnessed the spectacular, quiet skyline. After a while at the observatory, a saxophonist (a weekend special) began rendering soothing melodies that best accompany the night and that, to me, represents the sophisticated Manhattan that I'd always imagined...complete with the cooling summer breeze.

It's not easy to summarize NYC in mere few words. There's always something worth mentioning as you walk down the street; the quirky people, the latest gadgets, the food, the towering buildings, the music and the enclaves of different ethnics that form this city. And all these reminded me that anything's possible in this delicious big apple.

You can never take away the resilience and determination of the New Yorkers. Despite the melancholy that surrounds Ground Zero, there brims hope that NYC will once again, emerge stronger than ever.

I came to NYC to just have a moment in one of the best cities in the world and left energized and inspired. There are only a few cities that I wish to be a part of. This is definitely one of them. New York, you rock!

Amish Village, Lancaster County

The morning shower did dampen my spirit as we traveled along Route 30. And the pour didn’t get any lighter when we turned into 340 (the Old Philadelphia Pike). I remember a guide book advising visitors to avoid this route for it is constantly congested and being, well, touristy. I guess at 8 am with the rain showing no sign of resentment, it didn’t really matter to us.

On my itinerary was a cruise along the Scenic Drive, a spot on the map that got my attention immediately. At Bird-In-Hand, we took a left turn into Harvest Road leading to Highway 772. The surrounding progressively transformed from rows of shops to fields of corn and wheat. A scattering of Amish houses, agricultural plants and towering power generators decorated the otherwise monochromatic plains.

I proceeded to turn off my GPS navigator (how fun) and drove aimlessly deep into the area, reminding myself to just observe and never trespass. It was still drizzling when I had my first encounter with an Amish on a buggy. Being the driver, I only managed to catch a glimpse of him. The man donning a black coat and a hat had a beard, a signature of every married Amish man.

The rain stopped for a while. We parked beside a river and walked about half a mile to observe a nearby farm. What I feared at this point was not the Amish but potential presence of Dobermanns and German Shepherds barking us off their property. Or worse, tearing us apart for breakfast. Then, it started to rain again and we’re forced to dash for the car.

Finally, the sky spared our humble lives and decided to open up that late morning. Shops started operation and we found ourselves at the Amish Village in Strasburg, a souvenir shop that doubled as a faux Amish house (complete with a guided tour). For only US$8, I must say that it’s worth every penny and that it’s cheaper than most of the other exhibitors around. The tour of the house by an informative elderly lady started at the living room, where most of the communal activities take place, followed by the bedrooms and kitchen. In between, we also learned about their history and traditions.

The Amish (and the Amish Mennonites) place great importance on family and the community, with God being the core of their very existence. They resist materialism, which basically cut them off from what modernity has to offer. A young adult decides if he/she wants to be baptized and will be accepted as part of the community, regardless of his/her decision.

Over the few weeks leading to this visit, I’ve been reading a bit on the Amish. As a visitor, there are certain etiquettes that I should note. For one, I shouldn’t be photographing the Amish. Nor do they want to be photographed as well. There are a few explanations (that I know of) to this. Some said that photographs are a symbol of vanity, a contradiction to their belief. As Christians, allowing themselves to be photographed is to disobey one of the Ten Commandments – Thou shalt not make unto thyself a graven image. The most interesting that I’ve heard implies that it snatches the soul from the Amish.

In the kitchen, we were told that the Amish use portable fuel such as propane cartridges for cooking. Electricity is not used in any way. A fellow colleague asked if electricity is considered materialistic. I was dumbfounded. In the weeks to come, I came to understand that electricity indirectly connects the Amish to the ways of the material world via electrical appliances such as the television, hence the prohibition.

The fact that these few European descendants hold up to their belief until today is admirable, considering how dependent we are on technology, which in general does related to materialism in today’s capitalist world. They are a testament to what life is like without mobile phones, the internet, and computers, a question we perpetually ask ourselves. This was quite an experience, especially in a technology-driven country like America. An enriching one, no doubt.

A few hours later, we were on our way to a nearby Chinese buffet restaurant before a frenzy shopping spree at the factory outlets next to it. Yes, all peculiarly located not too far from the Amish neighbourhood. This is Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Stir It Up...at Lexington Market

Baltimore. From the walk to the Owing Mills subway station, I could tell that the demographics had changed significantly relative to where I’d been staying for the past 5 weeks. It was an interesting change.

Inner Harbor is a must-see, said most of my helpful colleagues. That too, I reminded myself.

Primarily, it was the centuries-old Lexington Market that I’d been looking forward to, here in Baltimore. Well, for the seafood, of course. The market gets packed during lunch. Stepping into the market in the morning, I shouldn’t be too excited just yet. Vendors were still busy preparing for the lunch crowd, although some displays were already filled with fried chicken, hotdogs and some Asian stuff. From afar, I managed to locate Faidley’s, the infamous big lump crabcake shop. Unlit, but rightfully so since it was only 10 am. There’s still a sizeable selection of breakfast to choose from. Ignoring the sushis and chow meins, I was left with some hotdog stalls and the Harbor City Bake Shop, where the longest queue was. I couldn't even catch a glimpse of the food as the display was blocked by the massive crowd. Certainly, I just had to join in the fun.

I surprised myself with the selection - a glazed donut (the first in my 7 weeks here, can you believe it!), a cinnamon twist and a large (almost a quarter, I believe) piece of carrot cake. There’s a good reason why Harbor City is an attraction here. The food's decent and they come really affordable. The soft carrot cake was heavy on the cinnamon, brown sugar and cream. In other words, very American. That's nice.

It’s easy to get around with the day-pass in Baltimore, although I must say that the Inner Harbor is still some distance from the nearest subway station. But it’s not a confusing walk. Just go towards I.M. Pei’s pentagonal World Trade Centre, which is placed right at the centre of the harbor.

The day must have hit a high of 38 deg C (yet again). There were 2 ways to cool it off – jump into the Chesapeake Bay (I'm not even sure if that's allowed) or just grab a cooling cup of Italian Ice from Rita's. I chose the passion fruit flavour.

As kids, we used to play baseball back in our kampung. The bat’s made of a broken broomstick while the baseball was an almost worn-out tennis ball that we’d picked up somewhere. A homerun’s fine but it was the pleasure of hitting your opponents hard with the ball that was most gratifying.

We were so close to experiencing a real (and professional) baseball game at Camden Yards, where the Baltimore Orioles (a Major League Baseball team) was to play later in the evening. Sadly, we couldn’t afford the time. Streams of stalls selling souvenirs (mostly in shades of orange – the Orioles’ colour) and grills and beers were beginning to form as we left the stadium. Ah, next time!

The Baltimore Light Rail took us back to Lexington Market for lunch, where the locals and tourists had just started thronging.

And there was Bob Marley's Stir It Up.

A jam session was taking place at the center court. The predominantly American-Caribbean crowd was having a good time swaying to the cool reggae beats. If I must choose, this was the most memorable moment for me, here in Baltimore.

Faidley's crabcake shop was still not up. What?! A closer inspection showed a notice that it was closed for (I believe) the current owners' 52nd wedding anniversary. Bless them but my life was over at this point.

That thought didn't last long, surely. Look, I've driven more than 200 km to get here, got baked in the sun for hours and STILL haven't had any Maryland crab yet. Absurd, isn't it? I had to make sure that I don't leave the market feeling like a loser. Or hungry. And just like that, the beast unleashed.

Smacked right in the middle of the Faidley enclave is the iconic Raw Bar. I had half a dozen of their premium-sized, shucked oysters. Sublimely fresh, these. And they were great with a Bud Light. I got myself some Baltimore steamed crabs too. Cooked in vinegar and beer, you can imagine the combustion of flavours in the meat. But that's not all. It's actually the Old Bay seasoning that gives it the punch. Fortified with loads of herbs and spices (including bay leaf, peppers, paprika, 5-spice), the taste was complex, aromatic and appetizing. There was no hint of sugar in the mix but it worked wonderfully with the natural sweetness of the crabs.

There's more than one big lump crabcake stall in Lexington Market, of course. As we headed for the subway station, I spotted a couple and decided to have one for the road. And it was good. A simple squeeze of lemon provided a nice cut to the rich taste of baked sweet chunks crab meat. Just to confirm, I asked the bouffant-capped owner with fine upper lip hair if this was a jumbo lump crabcake. That's right, dear, she said. Cool.