Posts from the ‘Chinese’ Category

Apr 18

Metro Cafe

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I haven’t left the house since Wednesday. Shuffling between my bed and couch, fevered, sore throat, sinuses infected, unable to concentrate, I’ve been going stir crazy. Maybe food would help?

Last night I was brought take out from Metro Café, the Brooklyn Sichuan/Japanese restaurant that I’ve been meaning to try. Obviously, I can’t speak to the décor or service.

I can speak to James knowing my taste. Even though he pestered me (I’ve lost my voice and trying to talk is excruciating) with five calls from Hong Kong Supermarket on subjects like, “What is a wide rice noodle?” Er, go to the rice noodle section and look for the least skinny variety. “What’s the difference between noya bok choy and shanghai bok choy?” I have no idea what noya is, I’m guessing a handwritten typo. “Do we have star anise? Limes? Cardamom pods?” Yes, no, yes. All I had to say in regard to what to order at Metro Café was, “something cold like tendon or tripe” and I was given pigs' ears. That’s definitely what I would’ve chosen if I had had a menu in front of me.

The ears, sliced into ribbons, were a nice balance of crunch and chew. I did not detect a strong peppercorn tingle, but I’m afraid that I’m missing out the full flavor spectrum. You would think that bold spice and chile oil would be the perfect match for a palate-dulling cold–I just nibbled a few bites of a chocolate bunny and could barely taste a thing–but I’ve encountered an inexplicable sensation, once before while at Sripraphai while sick, that hot food tastes even hotter, painfully so. I could only eat a few bites. Should I have new sympathy for people who claim to be unable to tolerate hot food?

Same with the cumin beef, which is similar to lamb preparations at other Sichuan restaurants (there is no lamb at Café Metro). I’ve never thought this was a punishing dish. Sure, there’s heat from the grilled green chiles; the overall sensation is an oily cuminy one, though. I’ll save this till tomorrow.

The double cooked pork is always one of my favorite dishes, super unctuous, mixed with tons of grease-softened leeks. This pork was a little dry despite sporting fatty layers. Odd. Still pretty good. I could eat the savory, black bean-enhanced onion and leek slices all by themselves on rice.

Water spinach, because you need a green vegetable.

I'll return for a dine-in version after I perk up. Chong qing chicken and a fish dish next time.

Metro Café * 4924 8th Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Feb 18

Jade Island

How much you enjoy the food at Jade Island will have a lot to do with your feelings on maraschino cherries and sweetened flaked coconut on savories. And whether you’re ok with canned mushrooms, pineapple and lychees. Otherwise, soaking up the throwback cocktails and tiki décor and may be more palatable for those with more refined tastes than mine.

Weekend Valentine’s Days are dangerous and romance should be avoided at all costs. That’s why I ended up on a Polynesian-themed double date in Staten Island on Sunday.

I quickly got into the mood with a coconut kiss, their take on a pina colada. You’d better be able to abide Malibu rum.

You cannot have tiki without the pupu. I am still a bit disconcerted that crab rangoon did not make the cut. Instead, make due with shrimp toast, curry beef skewers, fried shrimp, chicken wings and spare ribs with hot mustard and duck sauce.

Cold sesame noodles were also a starter.

The closest you’ll come to rangoon is a dish called prawn rangoon, which involves neither wontons nor cream cheese. Prawns are butterflied and coated in what appears to be flat out egg, not egg batter, and pan-fried, creating a squishy, puffy coating. The tail-on seafood blobs are surrounded by mushrooms, snow peas, lychees, carrots, pineapple and enough maraschino cherries to create a pink-tinged pool of sauce.

But that really has nothing over the volcano chicken, akin to sweet and sour with an emphasis on sweet. This is where you’ll find that flaked coconut…and more cherries. I wouldn’t be surprised if an entire bottle was used on our meal alone.

Not all the food is big top brash. Mei fun (pictured) and chow fun with pork were soothing in their tameness. That’s a lot of noodles, now that I assess this meal. My pick was the prawn rangoon. Happy Valentine's to me.

Previously on Jade Island.

Jade Island * 2845 Richmond Ave., Staten Island, NY

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Feb 15

Udu Hotpot

1/2 Hot pot is exactly what it sounds like, a pot of hot liquid (often hot in chile heat, too) where particpants can cook their own food. Yet the name always sounds like a facile double entrendre that could go so many directions. I’ll spare you the meanderings of my mind. The phrase stumped a former coworker of mine (see end of Happy Family post) in ways possibly only hilarious to me.

Sitting around a steamy vessel of bubbling soup is just what you need during the dregs of winter. I prefer restaurants dedicated to hot pot rather than taking my chances with off menu options like at Little Pepper. I was originally thinking Little Lamb, but when I heard about flashy Udu Café with personal TVs, at-table internet access and a checkbox ordering approach, I had to see it for myself (also to witness all the gauche FOBs that New Yorker Chinese were complaining about on Yelp in that strange backlashy manner of established groups distancing themselves from newcomers. Now that I think about it, I’m very judgmental about Oregonian transplants here, always picturing an earnest, indie, social justice trooper).

Backwards judgmental: the only other Caucasian in the joint, a moderately hip white dude with an Asian girl, naturally (now I’m judging) seemed unahappy to see us walk through the door like we were ruining his Flushing fantasy.

We were given a regular table, a two-top that was too small for serious hot-potting. This happens a lot at Asian restaurants, as if they don’t expect the white people to order very much food and then get dismayed when there is no place to put all the plates. The little side table was already being used by the mother-daughter duo across from us who had a whole four-seater to themselves.

This is a booth with the set-up I was describing. It’s common for groups to play C-pop, though one large party was just watching last week’s episode of The Office.

There are seven broth choices, and we picked Sister Su spicy pot, and insisted we wanted it really hot against protests (it was really spicy). I didn’t see an option for half-and-half broth like at Little Lamb, but later we noticed that everyone seemed to have the divided style. I guess you have to ask. You almost need the relief, not so much from the chiles but because the peppercorns start to commandeer every nook and cranny in your mouth and you lose the ability to taste anything.

There are approximately 121 dunkable items you can order–from straightforward chicken or mushroom to charcoal cheese or pig intestine country style, nothing wildly esoteric like pizzle. I do not know what charcoal cheese is. We ordered eight things, which was plenty. With the exception of $38.95 Wagyu beef, most selections are under $5. They do add up quickly, though.

First, you mix up a dipping sauce at the station we happened to be sitting next to. I honestly have no idea what an ideal sauce should be. Shacha, always gets depleted so I know that one is popular. Our waitress saw me taking photos and insisted on making the sauces “beautiful” before I shot that section and spent a few minutes topping off all the empty slots and cleaning up any spills. But my before photo turned out better than the tidier after, sorry.

Shacha, sesame paste, chopped garlic, sugar, cilantro. Seemed sensible enough.

Short rib, shrimp and tripe (way in the back). The flimsy shreds of tripe gets lost in the broth. Fat strips of honeycomb tripe would’ve been preferable, but that might be more Mexican.

Lamb. I would’ve taken more strongly flavored lamb and nixed the beef.

Shrimp balls, pork dumplings and “Hello Kitty tempura.” I’d call the latter fish cake not tempura.

We couldn’t decide what vegetables to order so the vegetable combo bucket sufficed. Corn is impossible to eat with chopsticks and the tomato was just weird. Next time, more pumpkin. Cabbage is cheap filler but I love it.

Full of stuff. I like the Hello Kitty face bobbing beneath the surface in the back.

The meal is ended with warm peanut and black sesame-coated mochi.

It’s not like you can miss the place.

Udu Hotpot * 133-50 37th Ave., Flushing, NY

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Nov 19

Great New York Noodletown

twoshovel New York Noodletown, or Great New York Noodletown as they’ve been calling themselves for some time, has always been a Chinatown standby and not just for late night. I haven’t been drunk in the vicinity of lower Manhattan in years. Murmurs of its decline have come and gone for ages.

Me, I’ve never had a problem with the food, though I never stray far from roast pork wonton soup, roasted meats with rice or salt and pepper soft shell crabs (though in a recent Travel & Leisure article that gathers a bunch of chefs to eat at Noodletown and discuss late night eats, David Chang declares the ginger scallion noodles his favorite—maybe I should branch out?) That’s it. And brusqueness in this genre of eatery doesn’t bother me.

I recently went straight after work before seeing The Box on opening night for reasons I can’t yet determine, not so much that the movie was weird/slow/unsatisfying but because I rarely even see movies, let alone on opening nights. Like I said, I wouldn’t call efficiency and lack of smiling brusqueness, and the burgundy-vested waiters hear everything. They’re on it. We were speculating to ourselves not loudly whether we should order the soft shell crab and were cut off by a waiter walking by, “No soft shell crab!” Ok, roast duck it was.

I forgot to take a photo of the duck, which proves how tastiness of the meat and crispiness of the skin. Or maybe I was just starving. I have to admit, though, that my soup was a little troubled. The broth was hot, maybe a little less complex and rich as ones I’ve had there before, but clearly the noodles and pork had just been sitting out as they were coldish, not even quite room temperature. The noodles were still springy and the pork had a nice charred flavor but warm would be better.

The wontons? Maybe I’ve said this before and I still can’t determine where the flavor is coming from since they look simply like shrimp encased in dough, no herbs, but they taste like marijuana. Just subtly and I’m no stoner but I swear they are like pot dumplings, if such a think existed. I’ve never heard anyone else ever say that so maybe it’s how my tongue processes a certain taste, in a soapy cilantro manner.

Previously on New York Noodletown

Great New York Noodletown * 28 Bowery St., New York, NY

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Oct 26

P.F. Chang’s

Did I love it? Not until I had a few drinks in me and they began playing Morrissey (godspeed).

It’s hard to judge a restaurant like P.F. Chang’s. Compared to the Americanized Chinese food found on every NYC block, it’s better on many levels. While it’s pointless pitting it against Chinese Chinese food, I’d go as far as saying it’s a suburban Shun Lee Palace. Less finesse and history, sure, but you’ll get similar garishness and fanfare at a fraction of the price.

For comparison, P.F. Chang’s has Philip’s better lemon chicken, “Lightly dusted and quick-fried chicken served with broccoli in a tart, sweet citrus sauce” for $12.95 while Shun Lee Palace has $26.95 lemon chicken “Chicken breast coated with egg batter and rolled in water chestnut flour then fried till crispy, served with shredded lemon and a velvety lemon sauce.” Ok, the latter does sound more alluring but I do wonder how different the two really are. And who eats lemon chicken, anyway?

Do not fool yourself into thinking this is Chinese food for those who can’t handle it or are unable to discern the real thing. Initially, I was surprised at the number of multi-generational Chinese families waiting for tables at P.F. Chang’s, but it’s kind of silly to think that Chinese in America would only eat at restaurants with fluorescent lighting and delivery guys on bicycles.

Normally, I’m not one for sweet cocktails but you feel obligated to order one at a fancy chain. The lucky cat martini, despite containing vanilla vodka, pineapple juice and Chambord, wasn’t that sugary. In fact, it was actually kind of bitter even though that makes no sense.

The dumpling heavy dim sum platter wasn’t anything special. They steamed, filled crescents of dough weren’t mushy but the fillings were all kind of dull and flat. Beef seemed indiscernible from pork and I prefer whole shrimp over a ground mousse. I do appreciate a crab wonton, though. The most fun was playing with the numerous sauces (there was an additional set off to the side). I’m a sucker for condiments even though the sauce they mix for you of hot mustard, soy sauce and chile paste seems kind of haphazard. What’s wrong with eating each of those on their own?

The entrees were stronger than the appetizers. Orange peel shrimp was tasty in that candied, crisp fried way that makes sesame chicken and general Tso chicken so appealing. The peel’s bitterness did help balance the sweetness.

Chengdu spiced lamb contained thick, tender hunks of something. I’m not fully convinced that this beefy tasting meat was lamb at all. Even though this dish wasn’t really like any Sichuan lamb I’ve had–it wasn’t particularly cuminy or spicy– it was kind of good in its own way. The meat had a charred smokiness and the sauce had an unidentifiable savoriness, perhaps from a bean based chile paste.

$2 mini desserts seem to be the thing now. I also noticed them at Carrabba’s. And they do suck you in. I would’ve said no to after dinner sweets but how much harm could a small treat cause? James had the small Great Wall of Chocolate. My incongruous lemon tres leches cake was confusing at it sounded. It was more like lemon pudding layered with graham cracker crumbs and reminded me of the desserts you find in Cooking Light. I frequently use the magazine for mid-week meals but their sweets are disappointing.

I got an eyeful of the plastic display Great Wall of Chocolate cake on its round metal tray on the way out and I’m almost convinced that you could spot it from outer space (urban myth be damned) it was that large. Mini desserts were wise.

One chain hallmark is the music piped outdoors for the pleasure of patrons quoted one-hour-waits while being handed chunky plastic beepers. As I assessed this gargantuan horse statue of indeterminate dynasty, Suedehead was playing. The video with Morrissey gadding about Fairmont, Indiana, James Dean’s hometown, tracing the young actor’s steps, making a pop culture icon personal, an outsider surrounding himself in artifacts of no import. Riding a lawnmower, sitting astride an Indian bike, reading James Whitcomb Riley in a barn, passing time in a diner…um, and playing bongos in a cow field.

Immersing myself in East Coast suburbs is a pilgrimage of my own. I can’t help it that I get swept up eating American-Chinese food in New Jersey.

Morrissey – Suedehead – Watch more Music Videos at Vodpod.

P.F. Chang’s * 3545 US Hwy. 1, Princeton, NJ

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Jul 17

Szechuan Gourmet

We're lucky to have a decent selection of Sichuan restaurants scattered throughout three boroughs. Now I’m hoping that Hunan will be the next break out regional Chinese cuisine. But with Grand Sichuan House and Bamboo Pavilion kind of nearby in Brooklyn, I rarely feel compelled to patronize any of the midtown joints. I finally got to Gourmet Szechuan, though, only because I was Koreatown realizing that I wanted spicy food of a different sort (plus the lines at Kunjip were intimidating).

It's been nearly a year since the New York Times decided to pay a serious visit, a marginally odd choice for the Bruni slot. And despite a copy of the review blown up at least seven times the original size adhered to the front window, the sit-down clientele was predominately Asian. Those waiting for takeout were not.

The most uncomfortable part of the meal was being privy to the ordering foibles of two middle-aged gentleman, mostly likely Mexican, who were seated directly next to me. They were getting thwarted in all kinds of ways, both through language and dashed expectations. The waitress really didn't want them to have lo mein and fried rice, they didn't want anything "picante" (hey, not all Latinos love spice) and they specifically wanted Pepsi, which they didn't have, juice was their second choice (also not available) so they settled for Coke. I witnessed a similar series of events go down at Grand Sichuan House once. Some people just want to eat American-Chinese food (which is on the menu at both) and have no desire to expand their culinary consciousness. That's ok. I imagine it could go both ways despite my never having witnessed Chinese people chancing upon a taqueria looking for hard shells and cheddar cheese. It's generalizing but I think Chinese (not Chinese-American) might be more inclined to eat only their own food.

We always order dan dan noodles, just because. In fact, we were intending to make a batch during the week but neither grocery store we tried (Stop & Shop and Wegmans) had ground pork, which is just strange.

Instead of my usual cold tongue or tripe, I opted for bamboo shoots. I had to get a vegetable in even if it involved a sea of chile oil. The peppercorn level in all of the dishes was what I'd call a medium, creating a pleasant buzz that still leaves your ability to taste intact. These crunchy strips were served with "fernbraken." If I didn't know better I would've guessed by the wetness and chew, that this mystery ingredient was a type of seaweed but if I'm correct it's part of a fiddlehead fern. I've mentioned before that fiddleheads creep me out; luckily, this dish was absolutely un-creepy.

A creature of habit, I wanted the dish that's bacony and smothered with softened oily leeks. I thought this would be #65 Stir Fried Chef's Sun Dried Pork Belly with Leeks but our controlling waitress, the same woman who wouldn't let our neighbors order both noodles and rice, steered me toward # 46 Stir Fried Fresh Pork Belly with Chili Leeks, instead. This was the version I had in mind with fat-striped thin rectangles of pork, though I imagine the chewier smoked version would've also been good.

I'm not as enamored by the crispy cumin lamb as others seem to be. I've seen it discussed at length on message boards and I'm fairly certain it received praise in the Times review. All the greaseless renditions I've tried are likeable but the dish feels more bar snacky and after a few nuggets a dry monotony sets in. We dunked ours in the slick pool of spicy remnants that had collected at the bottom of the nearly empty dan dan noodle bowl. For Sichuan lamb flavored with cumin, there's nothing better than the foil-wrapped seared version covered with a fistful of cilantro at Little Pepper.

I would be more inclined to head to south South Brooklyn or Flushing if the Sichuan urge grabbed me in the evening but I am jealous of midtowners with two Szechuan Gourmet locations for lunch. The Financial District is a paradise for cheap carby Chinese food—all the fried rice and lo mein you can eat with no judging—but even a Yip's apologist like myself needs a break every now and then.

Szechuan Gourmet * 21 W. 39th St., New York, NY

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Jun 17

Bamboo Pavilion

I'm happy that Brooklyn has real Sichuan restaurants at all, the strange thing is that both of them happen to be in unlikely spots (and if you're aware of more than these two, please spill the beans). Bay Ridge's Grand Sichuan House has always been good to me but I've been meaning to try Bensonhurst's Bamboo Pavilion for eons. I finally got around to it this weekend and I still can't declare either a winner; the food is comparable. I would only give GSH the edge for being slightly closer to me.

Neither is big on atmosphere, though both are a small notch up from typical Chinatown fluorescent bulbs and formica. Actually, Bamboo Pavilion has an interesting solution to keeping the tabletops free of impossible-not-to-splash chile oil: a plastic hospital-green disposable tablecloth that they grab all the plates up in bindlestiff-style.

The most tangible difference was that BP seemed to have a lighter hand with the Sichuan peppercorns, or a weaker batch, perhaps. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, the Sichuan food I've had in Hong Kong (I've never been to Chengdu…one of these days) is so wildly metallic and buzzy that you lose all sense of taste.

The "banchan" (I don't know the word for small Chinese dishes that come with a meal) was an unexpected extra. I've never received more than peanuts at any other Sichuan restaurant. Here, there was also cold, smoked duck and pickled bean sprouts.

Bamboo pavilion tongue & tripe in chile oil

The tripe and tongue in chile oil was spicy and perked up by the cilantro and chopped peanuts, but like I said, no extreme mouth numbing effects.

James always orders dan dan noodles, though I'm content with just a plate of chile oil drenched offal to start. These were served warm. I've never been able to get a clear sense of optimal dan dan noodle temperature since I've encountered hot, room temperature and cold versions. Even sticking to ground pork or beef isn't consistent. This was pork.

Nobody can beat the cumin lamb at Little Pepper, but I'll always give a lamb dish a chance. This was hot and contained lots of oil-softened leeks and red pepper slices but the meat needed some char. It appeared to have been coated in flour before sautéing but didn't get enough time in the pan, which resulted in some doughy patches.

Bamboo pavilion fish with hot bean sauce

We wanted seafood and were hesitant to try the fish with hot bean sauce after being told, "Americans like this one." That made me want to pick one of the piscine delights only labeled in Chinese characters that was displayed in the free standing photo flip menu, instead. I actually have no idea what species this white-fleshed fish was, but it was what I expected: delicate meat smothered with a strong chile sauce, toban djan. Don't expect the saltiness of fermented black beans, the beans here are favas. Favas seem so greenmarket and now, and well, European, but they grow in Asia too.

Green beans with pork are a basic, always welcome vegetable. You have to have at least one non-meaty item. The whole back page of the picture menu was devoted to dishes using wild mushrooms. The strict focus on fungi was kind of cool but I balked at prices in the mid-teens because I am cheap that way. I would consider swapping a mushroom creation for a fish preparation if I go again.

Bamboo Pavilion * 6920 18th Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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May 18

Yip’s

This is $2.60 worth of food. Ok, oily, sitting out food, but sometimes it hits the spot. Leeks, mushrooms, bbq pork and sesame chicken. (6/5/09)

I’ve developed a strange new obsession with Yip’s, a block from my office. I had managed to steer clear of the bi-level (restaurant upstairs, buffet downstairs) Chinese joint for over two years. Curiosity fueled by a cheapskate quest for a few pieces of char siu my cheapskate ways finally got me in the door.

Keeping a lunch under $5 (ok, I’ll go up to $6) in the Financial District is no easy feat so the banner touting the $3.49/lb buffet after 1:45pm (and a still not expensive $5.39/lb before then) was perfect since I rarely eat a midday meal before 2pm anyway. And if you spend more than $5 you get a free can soda. I've never hit this mark yet but I wonder if they'll give you bottled water, for some reason water is considered more precious.

The thing is the sweet barbecue pork is nearly gone by 1:15pm and the whole thing is decimated by 2pm. People go nuts for sweet and sour pork, fried fish and spareribs, apparently. There is also traditional salad bar (you know, with lettuce and vegetables—yet also sushi and crab legs) in the center of the room but it gets less play. I couldn’t help but notice the poor tray of bitter melon with beef that had all the beef picked out. The place is full of carnivorous heathens.

No, it’s not particularly healthy and way oily but sometimes I need a cheap lowish carb break from my typical midday cup of soup from a carton (black bean chipotle is good, sweet pea puree isn’t bad). I stay away from rice, noodles, heavily breaded things and dense bones (the duck chunks do call my name, though). I end up with 40% vegetables and 60% mixed hodgepodge, a ration I'm trying to reverse.

This is what I got for $3.88: salt and pepper shrimp and squid, bean curd with mushrooms, spinach, green beans, roast pork, zucchini and black beans (the chicken had been all picked out). Lots of mismatched items in small doses that are satisfying enough for my junk tooth.

This isn’t my first foray into questionably cheap Chinese food. There used to be a place on the ground floor of a downtown Portland hospital called Dollar Chinese Food. Actually, I don't know if that was its proper name or if it even had one, but that’s what everyone called it because of the $1 Chinese Food advertised on the sidewalk sandwich board. If I remember correctly for $1 you got a small paper plate with rice, a scoop of an entrée of your choice, and I'm fairly certain one of those tiny hard cabbage filled spring rolls.

Yip’s is way less depressing, if you can imagine. (5/17/09)

Yip’s * 18 Beaver St., New York, NY

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Mar 23

King Yum

I wish I had known I was going to be in Floral Park earlier in the day so I could’ve tried Keralan food for lunch. In fact, I wish I had known quite a few things before heading to the Queens/Long Island border early Saturday evening. One being that the movie theater I was looking for that was still playing Swedish teen vampire movie, Let the Right One In, (don't tell me Robert Pattinson is hotter than this kid with zero pigmentation and a pageboy) was housed in the lower arcade of a retirement community. Two, that Let the Right One In had been replaced with He’s Just Not That Into You.

Sure, there was a theater 30-minutes away in the East Village also showing the film but I was intrigued by what Northshore Towers Twin Cinemas far into the outerborough fringes could possibly be like. I was relishing the prospect of an empty house in a weirdo location and as the black-and-white checked finish flag appeared on the GPS device when I all I could see were three ‘60s era co-op towers looming in the middle of a field adjacent to the Grand Central Parkway, I became more intrigued.

While the Northshore Towers website paints the property as luxury residences, all I saw were walkers, canes and oxygen tanks. In the basement of the Beaumont building, you’ll find a gussied up diner filled with middle aged children dining with their parents, a grocery store for tenants only and a cinema with a hard ass security guard.

We were told we had to wait behind the velvet rope because the previous movie hadn’t let out yet. We were the only expectant patrons so I had time to scrutinize the Xeroxed movie schedule taped up on the glassed enclosure and was alarmed to see that Let the Right One In had been whited out and He’s Just Not That Into You had been scrawled on top in block letters. Argh. My plan was too good to be true. After asking the humorless gatekeeper which movie was actually playing, she went downstairs fetched the manager, a younger brunette version of the Crypt Keeper (god bless your soul, Geocities), who had no idea what we were talking about.

He was all, “Er, I just play what they send me.” It was finally determined that he had no idea what Let the Right One In was and that it was never sent. I have absolutely no idea how it ended up on Moviefone in the first place (the schedule on the theater’s website is currently for the week of March 6-12 so no clue there). A white haired couple had appeared by this point and after noting the painful romantic comedy, slowly shuffled away.

The only thing I could think of that would soften my disappointment was finally being able to pay a visit to old-school Americanized Cantonese King Yum in nearby Fresh Meadows. How would it stack up compared to Staten Island’s Jade Island, the only other restaurant of this ilk that I’m aware of?

The dining room was appropriately bambooed, thatched and set off with wooden tiki carvings. A karaoke cabana was set up against one wall. Tall burgundy vinyl menus with fantastical rum-based cocktails on the front page seemed like a good sign.

But all in all the food was as I’d expected it to be: merely average. James thought the space was dreary and that little things like the duck sauce to the spicy mustard tasted off or watered down.

The cuisine isn’t meant to be mind-blowing, which is why I focused on the pupu platter for two and only ordered one entrée, General Tso Chicken. Lo mein would’ve been appropriate but I didn’t want to go overboard.

Nostalgia doesn’t come with a twentieth century price tag. The prices were a little higher than I’d expected. Sure, you can do the column A column B combos, and maybe most diners do (the Queensy crowd didn’t strike me big spenders) but a la carte dishes were well into the teens and the pupu platter was $20.

I chose a zombie to go with my sterno-warmed treats. Maybe I haven’t been giving fruity drinks a fair shake because this wasn’t half-bad.

It could be an east coast west coast thing but I never had wontons with sweet orange duck sauce growing up. I don’t really get their appeal though I do like the crunch they add to hot and sour soup. The sauces of my youth were candy apple red sweet and sour and ketchup in a little circular dish that also contained a small dab of hot mustard. My first ever job was bussing tables at a restaurant a few blocks from my high school called Hunan Garden and I’d spent the first 15 minutes of my shift pouring sticky still warm sweet and sour sauce from a tea kettle into little plastic to go containers. Hot mustard was doled out sparingly, only to the half-way mark.

The pupu platter contained thick beef wedges on skewers and spare ribs, both dangerously sinewy and wanting to occupy the open space in the back of my lower right jaw where my wisdom tooth lived three days prior. Puffy hyper-battered fantail shrimp (they always remind me of fat miniature seals) were a must. The shrimp toast was oozing oil yet I still found the crispy mousse topped triangles irresistible. The foil wrapped chicken was odd. I think it was flavored with a shitload of curry powder, kind of bitter and yellow-tinged with a hint of crushed coriander. I heard a girl at an adjacent table refer to these as Thai chicken. Maybe the curry powder makes it so? Definitely not my favorite.

The general tso wasn’t breaded and crispy as anticipated. I know there’s a real version of this dish that’s not battered, I’ve made it myself, but when I go to a restaurant of this ilk I expect crispy nuggets. There's no denying the silver dome is classy, though.

Once the fruity cocktail floodgates had opened I felt no shame in ordering a pina colada. I’m not sure if it was my vicodin (this meal ended up being a huge mistake considering I was supposed to eating soft food only) or if they actually went heavy on the rum, but I started warming to King Yum after the second drink. I still prefer Jade Island. Even though it’s in the middle of a strip mall the kitschy establishment feels more like a hideaway.

There was no rectifying our thwarted Swedish teenage vampire flick. The least offensive movie playing after 9:30pm in the immediate vicinity was The Reader in Kew Gardens. I was at least hoping for some hot cougar action (ok, I actually take issue with anyone getting that label, but especially anyone under 40) but was faced with a bit more nazi schmaltz than I would’ve liked. Bizarrely, the couple in front of us left within the first 30 minutes, before the film even went south.

King Yum * 181-08 Union Turnpike, Fresh Meadows, NY

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Mar 2

Lam Zhou

Hand-pulled noodles for less than five bucks are a wonderful filling thing. It’s too bad that I’m rarely in Chinatown because this would be an ideal lunch.

I recently had the opportunity to stop by Lam Zhou (previously I had only tried Sheng Wang, which I never posted here but reviewed for nymag.com) on the way to a party in one of those co-ops along the East River that look like projects. A million blocks from any subway station, I needed fortifying on the long trudge from the East Broadway F station to the F.D.R. Even though I’m not fanatical about Flight of the Conchords, I did recognize the building they use as a stand-in for the New Zealand consulate as we walked past.

Lam Zhou is typically no frills, fluorescently lit with diners ordering, slurping and out the door in minutes. No time need be wasted on deciding what to order since they really only do two things: noodle soup or dumplings. Soup requires choosing your meat from options like beef, pig’s feet or fish balls and the dumplings are both sweet and savory, boiled or fried.

Immediately after placing your order (it seems that if you’re non-Asian a server will come take your order where you sit but Chinese speakers tend to just walk into the middle of the small room and shout out their wishes to the kitchen in back) a dull thwacking sound fills the air. Dough is pounded out at a stainless steel table in a corner and long, thin noodles are coaxed from the floury mass within seconds. That’s a lot of on demand craft for $4.50. Hey, there’s an untapped artisanal product ripe for hipster plucking.

To me beef tripe is honeycomb tripe, the thick, lacy webbed part of the stomach you normally see cut into curled strips as in the center of this photo. But this bowl contained a bonanza of bit parts: cuts that looked like shiitake mushrooms, clear gelatinous tendons and darker beef slices with transparent striations.

The noodles are amazingly chewy and springy and there are a ton of them. So much that the chopsticks can barely pick up strands without succumbing to the weight. Too many bowls of noodle soup and you might develop carpal tunnel syndrome. Our waitress seemed disappointed that we didn’t also want dumplings but I knew the soup would be substantial. An ideal cushion for drinking.

I like adding in a heaping spoonful of pickled mustard greens and a tinier amount of chile oil. I don’t think anyone would mistake what’s labeled here as Chinese Bechamel for the classic white sauce.

Being a party with a large contingent of Johns Hopkins alumni, professionals from the medical field weren’t scarce. I was particularly amused to meet a psychologist who specializes in workplace matters. She thought the peanut butter and jelly hoarder I was recently fascinated by wasn’t a problem worth making an issue out of as long as the worker was doing his job well. We’ll see about that.

Lam Zhou * 144 East Broadway, New York, NY

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