Suburban Tasteland

It's All Hyderabadi to Me . . .

The stretch of suburbia (West Alexandria/Annandale/Springfield) in which I toil offers an extraordinary array of culinary riches. Annandale is, of course, known as the D.C. area’s Little Korea. But in addition to dozens of Korean restaurants, my office is also just a five or ten minute drive from all of the following: a solid Peruvian chicken joint, my favorite Afghan kebab stand, a Korean/French bakery hybrid (scroll to the last paragraph in the linked article), decent Indonesian, serviceable Thai, Northern Chinese, Pakistani sweets, and even Bolivian. But until relatively recently, I had to content myself with exploring this bounty on my own or simply not at all (I don’t have fun eating at a restaurant all by myself).

You see, most of my co-workers are admittedly happy to breakfast at McDonald’s and lunch at Wendy’s. And the few lunches that we all have together in the conference room are typically catered by Papa John’s (as a side note, one former co-worker always insisted that at least one pizza be topped with hamburger, an unusual request made all the more unlikely by the fact that he originally hailed from Bangladesh). But I don’t suffer from those choices too much because thankfully, on those rare occasions when we actually do go out for lunch as one big happy work family, we can all agree upon Mike’s American Grill.

Fortunately, one of my newer co-workers has proven to be surprisingly amenable to just about every lunchtime expedition I’ve proposed. He’s originally from India, and perhaps because he’s had to assimilate his tastes to the American palate he’s willing to explore just about any other culture as well. His command of English, including idioms, is outstanding. But sometimes when I’m trying to pitch a cuisine that he hasn’t tried before and my salesmanship is falling flat, I’ll resort to describing a particular item in terms of Indian food in a last ditch effort to pique his interest. And I only realized the other day just how odd it is that, outside of this forum, I regularly describe an already seemingly exotic ethnic dish in terms of another exotic ethnic dish- neither of which would constant my own native grub. While my interpretations can be a bit loose, I thought some folks might find it interesting to see a short list of various dishes that I’ve described in terms of Indian dishes:

1)    I’ve likened Bahn Xeo, the Vietnamese crepe described in the previous post, as being akin to the Indian dosa, crepes that are typically filled with potatoes onions and spices. While the Viet Royale crepe could be loosely described as dosa-like, the one that my co-worker and I had at Saigon Citi (they do spell it "Citi" at the actual restaurant even though the link suggests ortherwise) was like a thick and greazy (and I do mean “greazy”) omelette.

2)    I’ve likened Thai curry puffs to Indian samosas. The curry puffs at Thai Lemon grass are among my favorites in the area, even if Thai Lemon Grass is somewhat underwhelming, in general. The curry puff is a delicate pastry stuffed with potatoes and spices whose cooling accompaniment is usually a dish of chopped cucumbers and carrots in a light vinegar dipping sauce. This is very similar to the Indian samosa, which is basically a small, fried turnover stuffed with potatoes or meat and spices.

3)    I’ve likened the salteña, a Bolivian baked turnover, to the Indian samosa. Salteñas are easily in my top five favorite food items of all time, as they are self-contained meals, or at least half-meals, with the perfect balance of sweet and savory and protein and carbs. I’ve been to a number of different Bolivian places, from the relatively upscale Tutto Bene (an Italian restaurant by weekday, a Bolivian restaurant by weekend) to the rather divey and unwelcoming Pike IV (not to be confused with Phase IV), and I’ve never been disappointed by a salteña.  The salteña is typically stuffed with a chicken or beef stew that usually has peas, potatoes, onions, olives, pieces of hardboiled egg, and sometimes raisins. Unlike its possible Indian counterpart, a salteña can be potentially hazardous for the novice, as a surprising amount of hot broth will spill out if you just plant a haphazard bite without knowledge of its consequences. The salteñas pictured here are from Pike IV.

4)    I’ve likened Peruvian pollo a la brasa to tandoori chicken. This is basically a battle of the marinades. I happen to favor the crisp, golden, spice encrusted Peruvian chickens to the otherworldly red of its distant Indian cousin. Like kebabs, pollo a la brasa is one of those rare ethnic foods that has true cross-cultural appeal. In fact, I have been known to describe pollo a la brasa as the unofficial fast food of the D.C. area.

5)    I’ve likened Indonesian corn fritters to Indian pakora. While my enthusiasm for Indonesian corn fritters (bakwan jagung) varies depending upon the purveyor, I love pakora, especially if I can douse them in tamarind sauce and spiced yoghurt. The buffet at Shiney’s (our weekly Pakistani pitstop) regularly features a bunch of pakora lazing in a vat of curried yoghurt sauce. So bad for you, but so good.

6)    I’ve likened the scallion pancakes at northern Chinese snacker A&J Restaurant to Indian uttapams. I actually don’t have that much experience with uttapams. If I’m at the buffet at Minerva, dosas with coconut or ginger chutney, pakora, and, of course, nan will always take precedence when I’m in carb-loading mode. Pretty much everyone has had a scallion pancake, at some point. But I bet most folks have never seen them fresh from the fryer all swollen like a blowfish (they flatten out into pancake form once they cool). I had the ones pictured here at Temptasian, the Szechuan restaurant, that all the foodies flipped out over and then subsequently abandoned once chef Peter Chang’s brief residence concluded. Though it’s admittedly not as good as it was during Chang’s tenure, it’s really the only place to get an authentic Szechuan fix in the close-in suburbs. We used to favor Crystal City’s Formosa Café, but they fled to Chantilly a couple years ago. There’s also the secret Szechuan menu at the Charlie Chiang’s on S. Pickett St., but dining at Temptasian is somehow a bit less depressing on a Saturday night than rolling through the loading dock ambience of S. Pickett Street.

Contact info for all of the places mentioned here can be found at the links in the article.

-AC

Crafty Carving

It would just be downright wrong to not partake of the national dish while in China. So, even though I'd already had one of the famed lazy susan meals that day, I insisted that JX take me for the real-deal Peking duck experience.

There was no question where we were going, as far as JX was concerned: Quan Ju De, a famous Peking duck chain restaurant based in Beijing.

It's very possible that there were other items on the menu other than the roast duck dish, but I honestly can't recall A. what they might have been or B. what we even had for an appetizer (it was probably something tofu-related, as many of our dishes were that week). Why we even ordered an appetizer is beyond me, as you'll soon understand how extraneous it was.

Still, any other menu items would be sadly reduced to a footnote at a place like this. Once we were seated, it was hard to avert my gaze from the parade of duck chefs (?) coming out of the kitchen one by one. Tall, quiet gentleman pushed their respective carts holding bronze, shiny whole ducks to salivating diners. While we waited, a server brought over the accoutrements that are essential to experiencing Peking duck—a dish of hoisin sauce, a dish of julienned scallions, and a plate of rice flour pancakes.Once our chef arrived at our table, he silently and effortlessly began to carve.

First, he lopped off several pieces of skin and fat (only a tiny bit of meat was attached). These pieces were meant as appetizers, only to be dipped in the hoisin sauce and not to be wrapped in the pancakes or garnished with onion, as is customary with the meat. At first, it seemed bizarre to just eat pieces of crispy skin and fat, but then I came to my senses—what could be better than eating straight crispy skin and fat!? And so we did. The pieces gave a little crunch as the fat and small amount of meat melted away in my mouth. While it's not exactly the kind of thing a person should eat on a regular basis, it is one of those dining experiences that stays with you for a long time (in this case, two years).

After we ate our fair share of fat pieces, it was time for the meat. But we did not eat without first getting quite a show. The carver, with the most delicate sleight of hand ever executed, took on each quadrant of the duck with total perfection. Perhaps it's all muscle memory to this guys by now, but it was sure impressive from where I was sitting. The meat was pink, juicy and tender, and each piece had a panel of that fantastic skin attached.

If you're lucky enough to be in Shanghai, visit Quan Ju De at:

4F, 786 Huaihai Zhonglu
Shanghai, China
+ 021-5404-5799

—AK

Lazy Susan Roulette

I knew long before I even left for Asia that great food was in my future when our Chinese guide and translator, JX, emailed me to ask, “Do you like roast ducks?” The answer, of course, was “yes.” And for the next three weeks, I couldn’t wait to board the plane.

The highlight of the 2004 trip (for work) was the three days I spent in Shanghai with my mom, DV, and JX. JX, I learned not only had an appetite to match mine, but also the same bizarre interest in new, interesting foods. Of course, we were on his turf, so I was getting to truly experience the new and interesting, while he happily showed us the ropes.

I decided right off the bat that I didn’t care what came across my plate—I was going to try it...at least twice. Luckily I didn’t have to read a menu or worry about what type of cuisine to have, as all of our meals were either orchestrated by our hosts or planned by JX. So they led, and I followed.

The meals with our hosts were outrageous. Both meals involved roughly eight to 10 Chinese men, JX, myself and my mother. JX tried to keep up with everyone so as to give us a Cliff’s Notes version of what people were talking about, all while trying to eat. Meanwhile, food was being brought out in various stages. Bowl after bowl and platter after platter of food would be placed on an enormous lazy susan, so as too ease sharing between so many people. The dishes were enormous and plentiful; I believe fresh dishes were coming out for the duration of the meal (about three hours). Our hosts in both instances were pleased that we were eating so heartily (myself more than my mom) and even encouraged me to keep eating, even when I was clearly at capacity and ready to prostrate myself in my hotel room. More, more, more.

More of what, you ask? Herewith I include a list of every item placed on the lazy susan (as taken from my notes) at both meals:

Meal No. 1
-goose liver
-crunchy, marinated sheets of squid
-shredded tofu
-sweet and sour pork
-barbecued park
-sauteed greenleaf
-deep-fried crepe with sesame pork
-cold tofu slices
-a dish of mushy small shrimp in soy sauce
-Peking duck
-tofu in coconut broth
-pork spring rolls
-cole slaw (the vinegary kind)

Meal No. 2
-more sheets of squid
-green vegetable with squid
-fish in a sizzling hot pot
-barbecued duck
-tofu in broth
-soup of bamboo stalks and pork
-small shrimps (heads still on)
-some kind of strange yellow vegetable
-fish pieces
-dumplings with more green vegetable
-beef in lettuce
-and yet even more green vegetable
-watermelon
-chicken soup

Stay tuned for more on this trip in future posts.

—AK

Paris Via Saigon Via Canton

Yesterday, DCist ran AC's review of Hong Kong Palace: A Feast Royale at Hong Kong Palace. Hong Kong Palace is a fantastic Cantonese restaurant in Falls Church that also surprised us with their French Style Steak, an amazing French Vietnamese inspired dish. As such, we count this among one of the most interesting Chinese experiences since our visits to Chinatown Express. Here's what we had:

The French Style Steak, a daily off-menu special, offers small chunks of steak sauteed in a light caramel sauce until crispy on the outside, sprinkled with crispy bits of garlic, and served with pickled vegetables in a fried rice-paper shell:


The House Special Chicken, a whole slow-cooked boiled chicken served in small bone-in chunks with a ginger-scallion sauce:


Sauteed Snow Pea Leaves, hearty greens sauteed with cloves of garlic:


Hot Sweet Beans Soup, a mucousy dessert soup that AC couldn't get enough of. It had tender mung beans and tiny, translucent pearls in a brackish yellow broth:


Enjoy French Style Steak at Hong Kong Palace:

6387 E. Leesburg Pike
Falls Church
(703) 532-0940

—AK & AC

Munchies Paradise

It’s amazing how little coverage Aji Ichiban has received in the local food media. The Rockville location of this Hong Kong based chain of snack emporiums is just two doors down from Bob’s Noodle 66, and according to the cashier, it’s been there for about three years already. Aji Ichiban used to figure prominently in our Chinatown jaunts back when we lived in New York, as this self proclaimed “Munchies Paradise” offers dozens of bins of Chinese-style high weirdness. So if you’ve been putting off that schlep out to Bob’s Noodle 66, Aji Ichiban’s proximity to Bob's easily transforms your expedition into a twofer.

While some of their candied and pickled fruit oddities can be found at Chinese supermarkets like Kam Sam, Aji Ichiban not only has the most extensive array of such snacks, but also offers samples of just about everything. And that’s extremely helpful since much of their bounty, though interesting in concept, is likely repulsive to the Western palate. Nevertheless, if you’re interested in experiencing the extremes of sweet, sour, and salty, then a little bag of goodies goes a long way. I once bought a small bag of their preserved ginger root that had been candied and pickled, and the intense spice of the ginger was so powerful that it took me about 6 months to finish gnawing away at a mere handful of roots.


Of course, Aji Ichiban does offer a number of gummies and other less off-putting candies that are appealing to the Western palate.



Directly opposite these appealing and colorfully wrapped candies, however, is a veritable oceanic atrocity exhbition featuring bins of Hokkaido shredded squid, dried Isoyaki eel, and crispy spicy codfish, among others. That’s just in case you forgot where you were for a moment.

Among Aji Ichiban’s less daunting treats, we’re big fans of their answer to the Peanut M&M: chocolate covered sunflower seeds in colorful candy shells just like Mars’ finest.

The strawberry plum is a dried plum that has somehow been so fused with the essence of strawberry, that I actually had to pull it apart to determine that it was, in fact, a plum. It's easily the sweetest and juiciest of all of the dried fruit snacks that we tried.

The wrinkled skin of the sweet and sour peach yields to a tender interior with the perfect ratio of sweet to sour. Just be mindful of the pit.

Interestingly enough, though the olive is most often associated with Mediterranean cuisine, Aji Ichiban offers a half-dozen varieties of candied dried olives.

The jumbo-sized “preserved spicy olives” are a deep chili red with a crunchy interior that has a nice bit of sweetness and mellow heat.

The licorice olives are greenish brown and smaller. The licorice and the olive taste combine more for a sweet and sour effect than anything approaching licorice.

By now, you can probably tell that the genius of Chinese snack makers is their ability to start with a standard item like a peach or a plum and somehow transmogrify it into something that offers almost no hint of its original state.

And lest you think that Aji Ichiban’s oddities only appeal to a narrow swath of humanity, their website proclaims:

Aji Ichiban is also recognized by many political leaders as one of the best munchies paradise. Their honored visits to our retail stores is yet another proof of our popularity.

Check out Aji Ichiban at:

309 N. Washington St.

Rockville, MD

(301) 610-7798

—AC

Bubbling Crude Pork Belly

Faithful readers might recall that after the Washington Auto Show, AC and I ventured to Chinatown Express for their celebrated noodles and soup dumplings. We also teased at the end of the post that we might try the pig's belly with preserved mustard green casserole and eggplant with salt fish casserole. I brought down the final ruling that we would be trying these dishes, and that would be that.

We went back the following weekend, as our curiosity got the best of us. We barely even glanced at the menu; we knew what we wanted.

“We’ll take the the fresh dumpling with leek and pork, the pork belly with greens, and the eggplant with salt fish casserole,” AC said with conviction.

“Oh!” said the server, winking at me. “All my favorites! And real Chinese.”

“Yes,” we nodded and agreed.

“People come in here and order Hunan Chicken, Chicken Fried Rice,” she fumed, eschewing the notion. “Not real Chinese food.”

We felt great having pleased the Chinese waitress, but we were still slightly nervous about trying the entrees, for which we had no frame of reference.

The dumplings ended up being among the best we’ve had: slightly doughy and packed with meat and scallions—much better than the soup dumplings we had last time.

But what form would the pork belly assume? Was it going to be like small pieces of salty bacon (which we know comes from the belly of the pig), or would it be slabs of fatty meat?

It turned out to be the latter.

A small steaming cauldron was presented before us, large pieces of meat and fat protruding from the bubbling broth, while tiny minced pieces of mustard green were virtually hidden. We enjoyed the taste of the pork, though it had an oddly soft pliability. It turns out that these slabs of pork belly, ribboned with fat, and sided with a slightly bumpy and muddy red skin, actually came from the roasted pig hanging from the hook up front. As a result, the pork had that sickly sweet taste of Chinese barbecue, the sort of taste that we like for a few bites, but soon find cloying. The pickled mustard greens were minced and boiled into an ineffectual stew. They contributed nothing whatsoever to the taste, and seemed to be present solely to add some modicum of healthful properties that would otherwise be lacking from this fatty dish. In its stead, dozens of thick garlic slices battled with the barbecued flavor of the meat.

In the second dish, the eggplant was the chief component, and the salt fish was barely there, though when it made its presence known, its salty sea essence was powerful. These small pieces of fish were extremely salty and almost crunchy, both qualities offering a perfect complement to the fleshy, mildly flavored eggplant. But we're not entirely sure that they're meant to be eaten. Perhaps like the bay leaf, they're simply meant to provide flavor. Once again, a generous helping of thinly sliced garlic was one of the principal flavor components of the dish, while one of the marquee ingredients, the salty fish, was largely sidelined.

While we are unlikely to order these dishes ever again, we're glad to have had the opportunity to try some authentic Chinese peasant food. In this case, we believe this is exactly the sort of thing that is served up after several hours of tilling the fields. In fact, for a couple of days after the meal, AC lamented the fact that he didn’t properly earn such a hearty meal and perhaps he should retroactively do some field work to make up for it.

Now that we’ve sufficiently tested our strength and constitutions with these Chinese delicacies, we can safely return to the other authentic dishes that we hold dear at Chinatown Express: fresh noodle made on the spot, leek and pork dumplings, and sautéed green leaf with garlic.

Enjoy an adventure at Chinatown Express, located at:

746 Sixth Street NW
Washington, DC
(202) 638-0425

—AK

Shanghai Surprise

Last weekend, AK was seized with the notion that we should check out the International Auto Show at the Washington Convention Center in D.C. Having never been to an auto show before, I was struck by two things: 1) The wonderfully toxic smell of hundreds of brand new cars hits you about twenty feet before you even enter the room and 2) Folks seemed content to just idle in, on, and around the cars chatting with their pals as if they actually own the vehicles that they’re absentmindedly fouling with their touch, breath, fiddling, and leaning.

Now, of course, you’re probably wondering: What kind of grub goes down good after an auto show? If you’re insane people like we are, then the answer is obvious. Shanghai soup dumplings, fool.

Thankfully, the Washington Convention Center is about a ten minute walk from D.C.’s ever-shrinking Chinatown. Apparently, the real D.C. area Chinatown has gradually shifted camp over the years to suburban Maryland. There are still a handful of restaurants in Chinatown whose offerings are not only exceptional, but also dare to cater to palates hankering for more than just beef with broccoli. We’ve enjoyed both Eat First and Full Kee, among others, but had never been to Chinatown Express.

If you’ve ever braved the seediness of Sixth Street, then you’ve probably noticed the divey restaurant with the showcase window featuring an absolutely enthralling noodle making performance. I observed the noodle chef practice his craft for about twenty minutes, and my puny brain still can’t quite fathom how he’s able to coax a dozen noodles into formation just by slinging a thick rope of dough around. The noodle chef is flanked by a roast meat holocaust of hanging ducks, chickens, and a giant roast pig, the latter of which was suffering the slow, but steady attrition of incoming orders.

Although, Chinatown Express offers an extensive menu of largely typical Chinese restaurant fare, they helpfully list their specialties on a separate page posted near each table.

We started off with the Steamed Pork Bun ($4.50), which is actually a steamer of eight Shanghai soup dumplings, pinched doughy purses hiding a ball of leek with pork and a sip of soup broth. The dumpling skin was as thick, fresh, and doughy as it appeared, and the pork inside was tasty. However, the soup broth was, at least in a majority of the dumplings, barely in evidence. We had previously tried soup dumplings in New York at Joe’s Shanghai, and we literally had to eat each dumpling in one bite to avoid broth run-off. But, this was hardly a problem at Chinatown Express. They were delicious nonetheless, and my favorite sweater probably benefited from not having to contend with hot broth flying all over the place. Incidentally, New York magazine offers the following explanation as to how soup dumpling purveyors get the soup inside the dumpling:

They thicken it with gelatin and put it in solid. Then, when the dumplings are steamed, voila: soup!

We also ordered the “Fresh Noodle Made on the Spot” fried with slices of beef ($4.95). Unfortunately, the beef was not all that appealing, and we realized that we should have simply ordered the noodles with vegetables. I imagine that some diners might pair a sampler plate of roast meats with the noodles instead. Still, it was easy enough to put the slices of beef aside and concentrate on the thick, doughy noodles mixed with bean sprouts and slivers of carrot. The best part about these house-made noodles is the inconsistency of noodle thickness- some noodles were relatively slender and dainty, while others were wonderfully malformed thick and bumpy at one end and thin at the other.

Of course, we had to have some vegetables, and the “Sauteed Green Leaf with Garlic” ($9.95) sated our jones for greens. Rather than deploying thin slivers of garlic, Chinatown Express has simply mashed whole cloves of garlic into halves and thirds and interspersed them amongst the greens. Be sure to pour the garlicky liquor from the greens over the rice.

And special mention must be made of the two house-made tableside condiments. One jar contains a fragrant oil and vinegary mince of ginger and scallions, which I practically ate in straight doses, while the other offered pickled slivers of garlic, which should be used sparingly.

Next time, I hope to try the “Pig’s Belly with Preserved Mustard Green Casserole” ($10.95), but I’m probably too timid to ever have a go at the “Eggplant with Salt Fish Casserole” ($11.95). -AC

Chinese Chili Mac

While Szechuan cooking easily answers the American chili mac (you know, spaghetti, chili, and onions all mixed together) with dan dan noodles, A&J Restaurant offers its own Chinese chili mac variation: “noodles with ground pork and bean paste sauce.” Dan dan noodles, at least the ones that I’ve had at places like Formosa Cafe, are thin noodles swimming in a bowl of molten chili oil, topped with ground pork, and flecked with scallions. A&J’s noodle dish is somewhat more exotic, but a chili mac, nonetheless.

A&J specializes in northern Chinese cooking, which others have described as more bread and noodle focused than the rice centric Chinese meals with which most Americans are familiar. The DC area is blessed with two A&J locations in Annandale, VA and Rockville, MD, just two lonely outposts of the sprawling A&J empire: A&J apparently has roughly a dozen or so restaurants scattered throughout the world.

While A&J has garnered a fair amount of praise from the Washingtonian and the Washington Post, among others, until recently, I had yet to discover any one item that was truly revelatory. I really wanted to like A&J, as it offers an abundance of cheap eats oddities, particularly small plates and dim sum, like the “steamed spareribs with spiced rice powder” and  the “Chinese sesame biscuit with sliced beef.” Unfortunately, the rice powder lent the spare ribs an unsettling texture, and the sesame biscuit was stale and stuffed with dry, tired beef. Even their version of sesame noodles, hot and spicy and topped with peanut powder, was disappointing- not especially spicy and hardly enough peanut and sesame presence to satisfy.

But the noodles, themselves, captured my imagination. A&J offers its customers the choice of thin or thick noodles, and I, being somewhat of a piglet, always opted for the thick noodles. The thick noodles are wide like Japanese udon, and so pliant and doughy that they must be homemade. I couldn’t stop thinking about them, and so I was drawn back to A&J despite my earlier disappointment. This time, I decided to try their “noodles with ground pork and bean paste sauce.” As I’ve found in numerous ethnic restaurants, the tersely worded listing on the menu barely described the actual reality of the dish.

The ground pork was cooked in a bean paste sauce that lent it an appealing reddish hue, and was not too sweet and only mildly spicy. And much to my surprise, the substantial mound of pork and noodles turned out to be flanked by a pile of cucumber shreds and another pile of fresh bean sprouts. The cucumber shreds may have had a touch of rice wine vinegar, but seemed otherwise untreated, as were the bean sprouts. But here’s how A&J presented the cucumber in an ingenious format for this dish: they shredded it lengthwise into long, thin, noodle-like pieces of cucumber. This enabled me to easily wrap both the noodles and the cucumber around my fork, spear a few bean sprouts with the exposed tines and coat the bound parcel in ground pork. Awesome. The combination of the two crisp, refreshing vegetables was a perfect counterpoint to the savory ground pork, and the thick noodles were the perfect starchy bond to bring all of the elements together.

Okay, so my chili mac definition is a bit expansive, but if you squint long enough at this dish it morphs into Hard Times’ three-way chili mac with Cincinnati. I swear. Or maybe I’m just an insane person.

Though most of A&J’s menu features small plates, this dish is a kingly portion, practically enough for two to share, and a bargain at only $5.95. -AC