I could spend hours here, and I do. I stroll along the streets, more quiet, with people actually sitting along the curbs once you turn off of Grand Street. I look at all of the dried roots, and mounds of dehydrated shrimp in one shop. At the butchers there are cuts of meat that I have never seen, and I buy a fresh, uncured ham. I’m not sure what to really do with it, but I just have to buy it. The fish monger is amazing. Walking onto the tiled, wet floor, there are rows upon rows of fresh, whole fish, their scales glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights. And the produce market, that is really where I go crazy: baskets of bean sprouts; oranges, individually wrapped like a little present of citrus; knobby ginger root; tangles of grapes, purple, red, and green. And then I encounter this:

Water Spinach. I had never seen this bright, leafy green vegetable before, let alone cook with it. But the kind man working at the produce market, told me to cook it as I would traditional spinach. So I bought a bundle, still unsure how I would prepare it. A little further research at home on the internet (don’t you just love the internet?) and I found a bit more out about this lovely green.

Most common in Asian countries, it is grown in the United States as well. Here however, it is called a noxious weed, due to its high growth ratio. This sucker grows. In moist soil, or even still water, this spinach grows tall and fast, at times clogging water ways. Well, there is only one thing to do with such a quickly growing plant, and that is to eat it quickly. I am doing my part to help American agriculture by making, and eating, noodle stir-frys.

I am not a skilled Asian cook, so I will just say that this stir-fry was inspired by the stellar ingredients found in Chinatown. My skillet had been piled high with mounds of cleaned water spinach. Just like traditional spinach, water spinach cooks way down. The tubes, once crisp and airy, collapsed– becoming chewy vessels for whichever sauce you choose. In this case, I used a simple ginger-soy, gratings of sinus-cleansing ginger, mixed with simple light soy sauce, and a smidgen of sesame oil. Toss in the egg noodles, a handful or two of crunchy bean sprouts, fry quickly, and slurp away. It may not be the most traditional use for water spinach, but it was pretty darn good.

Stay tuned for more of what I purchased and cooked from one afternoon in Chinatown. And p.s. I still haven’t figured out what to do with that ham, which is now resting in my freezer– suggestions are always welcomed.

That is until last week. I spent the afternoon exploring Chinatown. So many amazing shops, fish markets, and nooks and crannies, with labyrinthian streets that only seemed to stretch for miles, I could happily get lost here for hours. And I did. I stumbled into a Japanese shop, and was looking at all of the sweets (as I always do), when there it was. Prepackaged (but still!), in mostly Japanese writing with the lone German phrase of my dreams– Baumkuchen!

With its layers resembling the rings of a tree, hence the name, this delightful vanilla sponge cake is simple in taste though complex in making. I had to buy a small slice, even if I was unsure of the flavor. Prepackaged baumkuchen? But baumkuchen none the less. I raced home, only stopping to buy a pint of heavy cream to whip for the topping.

And how was it…was it all that I have dreamed of for so many years? You know how certain people say that even bad pizza is good, the acid of the sauce, and the goo of the cheese? Well, I guess I’m sort of like that with baumkuchen. Moist, delicately flavored, with a springy consistency, though slightly stale, mounded with cream I could almost imagine being back in San Francisco in that little bakery. Mmm, round cake… stale or not, I will definitely be back for more.