Dish:

In the bowl: Your choice of soup base, noodles, and toppings (including vegetables)

Supporting cast/What to do: Your server will give you a form (in Chinese and English) and a pen. If you’re having a noodle bowl, you’ll need to build it yourself from the ingredient list, filling out the form and turning it in to your server. You can also order appetizers and other items on this form.

Noodling around: There’s work to do if you come for a noodle bowl. You can spend an agonizing amount of time deliberating your decision. A friend suggested that they do recommendations, like “house specials.” But remember that at King Noodle, you’re in control, which is part of the fun.

First, there’s an interesting assortment of six soup bases: chicken broth, original fish soup, hot spicy, Szechuan spicy, sour & hot, and Thai tom yum goong. Next six noodle choices: (rice) vermicelli, flat rice noodles, QQ noodles, udon, instant noodles (!), and wonton noodles. Then a choice of two out of four vegetable “garnish” toppings: bean sprouts, cabbage, leeks (Chinese chives), and mushrooms. Finally, there are 16 regular toppings. Most are proteins, from BBQ duck to cuttlefish balls, but there are also vegetarian options like seaweed and pumpkin. “Fungus trip” and “Luncheon” remain mysteries for now.

I wanted something spicy, and knew that Szechuan spicy would mean the ma la numbing effect that I love, so I chose that broth. (The hot spicy was similar, without Szechuan peppercorn; both could have been spicier for my taste, but they’ll certainly be spicy enough for most people.) Curious about QQ noodles, my server said they’re Taiwanese and made with wheat and eggs, but white in color. Bigger than wonton noodles (similar in size to fettucine), I was happy with that choice. My “garnishes” were leek and mushroom (unfortunately, they were button mushrooms instead of shiitake, which would be much better), and as I can’t resist offal, I had numerous choices and went with beef tripe and pork kidney. The tripe portion was skimpy, but the pork kidney was fine.

Overall, it was a satisfying bowl of soup, and staring at the menu, I kept considering what the other combinations would be like.

If you want more: The appetizer list is full of fun options for offal lovers, from Szechuan-style pork stomach to marinated pork intestines. If you get offal in your noodle bowl, I’d recommend the pork and vegetable dumplings, pan-fried instead of steamed ($3.60 for 6, or $7.50 for 12, which will certainly make you wonder why there’s an upcharge for more!). These plump dumplings are house-made, and served with soy sauce. (Note that if you’re especially hungry, you can also add more toppings to your noodle bowl at $1.50 per item.)

Be aware/beware: While I was disappointed with the button mushrooms as one of my garnish toppings, if you choose mushrooms as a regular topping, you’ll get a generous portion of enoki mushrooms. The flat rice noodles are cut shorter than usual, so they “break” easily and were harder to eat with chopsticks than the longer cuts. The chicken broth was pretty good, and seeing free-range chicken as a topping on the menu was refreshing. Lastly, the rice stone pots looked tempting, and also offer item choices.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 16, 2012.

Dish:

On the plate: Hand-shaved noodles with your choice of pork, chicken, beef, vegetables, tofu, or prawns. Pictured is pork. It’s just noodles and meat, along with some cabbage and green onions, plus chili pepper to your desired level of spice.

Supporting cast/What to do: This one is pretty straightforward. It’s a WYSIWYG plate. Just dig in. If it’s not spicy enough, you can ask for chili oil to raise the heat level.

Noodling around: There are a lot of variations of chow mein. The main draw of Spicy Talk’s version is that it’s made with hand-shaved noodles. From a big ball of dough (made of wheat flour and water), the chef skillfully flicks a special tool to shave a pile of noodles for stir-frying. The noodles will have similar thickness, but with enough variation and irregularity to know that they are indeed hand-shaven. The joy of these noodles is that their thickness and freshness yield fabulous texture. Stir-fried, they’re almost al dente (atypical for Chinese dishes, as noodles are usually very soft) with a bit of chew to them.

Spicy Talk is a Szechuan restaurant, so spice levels can soar. I asked for these noodles ma la, which means both numbing (from Szechuan peppercorn) and spicy (from chili peppers). Below the spice, I could still taste soy sauce, which is the foundation of the seasoning. This chow mein is a simple dish that’s satisfying.

If you want more: There are many interesting possibilities on the menu, but I recommend chili with beef tripe ($5.25) as a great starter. If you don’t want your noodles spicy, this dish will provide nice contrast in heat. And you’ll have a second plate with plenty of texture to talk about and enjoy.

Be aware/beware: “Spicy Talk” sounds like it would be the subject for Sexy Feast, but it’s just a Chinese restaurant. Unlike Bellevue’s Bamboo Garden (which I believe is slightly better in quality), it’s not next to an adult toy store. Yes, Redmond is far from Seattle, and more costly now that there are tolls on the 520, but Szechuan food in Seattle falls short of Eastside quality. In fact, Spicy Talk’s chef Cheng Biao Yang was formerly at Seven Stars Pepper, but he sold it, and the quality has been in free-fall of late. (Between Seven Stars and Spicy Talk, he was at Szechuan Chef in Bellevue, which remains popular.)

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 9, 2012.

After all, I’ve been disgruntled by Asian restaurant openings of late. Cocktails are trendy and some of the places are indeed cool hangouts, but the food is often bland, bastardized, or just plain bad. Sorry, but I’m not into overpriced, poorly constructed dumplings, or sushi rolls made with jalapenos.

So, I was ecstatic to see that pig ear salad. The flavor was good, though I’d give up some of the green onions in exchange for more heat. That’s an easy tweak, and one the restaurant can help enable by offering chile oil on the side.

There’s a lot of pork on the menu. (Heck…Chino’s email address is “porkcentric.”) My favorite dish of the preview was the zha jiang mien, with perfectly cooked, thick and chewy noodles topped with minced pork, hot bean paste, and sweet bean sauce. The tinga tacos, made with braised pork and chorizo, were also tasty. The char siu pork will be a safe pick for some, though I found the meat rather lean. And, surprisingly, on this particular night I preferred the gua bao (a Taiwanese “burger” using a steamed bun, here dressed with pickled mustard greens, cilantro, and crushed sweet peanuts) with fried tofu instead of the more traditional pork belly, which was just a little dry.

Granted, this is an early glimpse, and given Walter Lee’s enthusiasm in Chino’s kitchen, I expect quality to get even better over time. My take: A little more fat will go a long way.

There are two menu items I’m especially eager to try as soon as possible. “Blood and Guts” will feature all kinds of offal action, as it includes blood cake and tripe. And there’s also “Menudo de Chino,” a combination of offal stew and Taiwanese noodles that sounds tempting.

If you haven’t guessed, Chino’s is both Chinese and Mexican, serving dishes best described as Taiwanese night market meets Mexican street food. And while it’s also a cocktail bar (take note of my Singapore Sling paired with some furikake kettle corn), the food here is far from an afterthought.

My first impressions are quite favorable. It’s been a while since I’ve recommended a new Asian restaurant to my food-loving friends, and I’m looking forward to their feedback, and seeing how this one evolves.

Little Sheep is located at the site of a former Black Angus steakhouse, and retains an elegant feel–especially compared to most Chinese restaurants. As at a steakhouse, supper can be spendy, but at Little Sheep, you’re paying a premium for quality ingredients.

While waiting for the hot pot to arrive, we enjoyed some hot and spicy beef tendon, delicious bitter melon salad, tender lamb skewers, and a surprisingly good Mongolian beef meat pie. Then came our hot pot, with two containers looking like a yin-yang symbol–half with the original soup base, and half with a fiery red, spicy soup. We wanted as much variety from the menu as possible, so our order included five assorted meat balls, cuttlefish paste, a seafood combination, fried tofu sheet, assorted mushrooms, assorted vegetables, some dumplings, a beef and lamb combo, and lamb shoulder flavored with red wine. (With a name like Little Sheep, it would be silly not to maximize the lamb.) After the orgy of eating all the food from the platters, we then tossed noodles in the hot pot and ate those. Lastly, we devoured bowls of soup with cilantro and a hit of vinegar.

So what does Little Sheep’s hot pot teach us about sex?

It’s all about cooking to create chemistry.

A hot pot meal is a bit like Asian fondue. You’re all huddled around the food. There’s a warm feeling, literally and figuratively. Hot pot cookery means putting things in the broth at the proper time and sequence, monitoring the flame and the cooking time, and serving the food to your partner(s). A good “host” (that duty can change many times during the course of the meal) pulls out the cooked food and divides it evenly among the plates, feeding herself or himself last. In traditional Chinese meals, you pour tea for each other. You please others, then experience pleasure yourself. You give, you get. It’s a recipe for success.

Just like sex.

Recipe for Romance is a new adult video that is part of New Sensations’ Romance Series. It’s the story of two people in the catering business who create chemistry–for their clients, and (ultimately) for each other.

Like all of the Romance Series films, this one has great female and couples-appeal, including a plot line that’s worth following. The acting won’t win Academy Awards, but it’s better than in most adult films. The actors and actresses seem to enjoy their roles and are good-looking in a natural way. Most female viewers will appreciate the presence of pubic hair and real breasts. Production quality is high, and the music is decent–not the typical hard-thumping porn soundtrack.

The sex scenes show connectedness and chemistry. There’s teasing and tenderness, kissing and caressing. You know: romance. No emphasis on close-up, gyno shots. No focus on penetration. And no facials, which most women dislike. Pop-shots are kept below the neck.

As Samantha Ryan, female lead in Recipe for Romance, explains in the “behind the scenes” extra (see, some people watch that stuff!), “So many movies don’t portray real sex,” adding, “We want to see what’s real, what’s true passion.” Asked about the appeal of the Romance Series, she says, “These movies bring out that side which I think is really what people are doing more at home,” and after additional thought, continues, “For women, we’re not just looking for hot people having sex, we want the whole thing…getting into the storyline…getting really into it…real, romantic sex.”

Admittedly, I was frustrated and distracted by flaws in some of the food scenes. (Knife skills were terrible, and the chocolate cake was sagging and sad-looking.) But that’s the hazard of being both a food writer and sex educator. On the positive side, the bouillabaisse looked pretty good, and certainly had an instantaneous aphrodisiac effect in the movie.

New Sensations notes that the sex scenes “are intended to enhance the story rather than be the focus of the product” and that the series “strives to inspire the mood and let the couples watching take it further.” Viewers may have varying perspectives on what they perceive to be steamy, on-screen sex. But they can make steamy, off-screen sex. To that effect, Recipe for Romance is pretty stimulating and hot.

Just as stimulating and hot, if not hotter, than the hot half of Little Sheep’s hot pot.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on September 15, 2011.

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Henry’s Taiwan, at the base of the Chinatown gate, has been a fan favorite for a few years, serving some Taiwanese standards at reasonable prices.

Now Henry Ku has opened Henry’s Taiwan Plus a few doors down at 522 South King Street, site of the short-lived Noodle King and Penang Food Court. A few small plates and dim sum items (like the delicious beef bing) are carryovers from the older location, but here are new dishes in a new setting—including a few upscale plates, like miso-glazed black cod and honey mustard lamb chops. The dining room is a little larger than at the first Henry’s, with some Chinese antiques adding fine finishing touches.

I tried the “Plain Noodle Soup,” which is easy to overlook. The Chinese characters tell a different story, translating to sun spring noodle soup, something most Taiwanese people will recognize. The soup is simple and elegant, perfect for fighting a cold or for a quest for comfort. The broth is made with bonito shavings, with flavor balanced by sugar and salt. What you’ll see in addition to the ribbon-like egg noodles are bean sprouts and Chinese chives, but there’s also a little white pepper and shallot oil. At $4.95, it’s the kind of hidden gem you’re likely to find when you invest some time and money at any of Henry’s locations.

Why the dim sum boycott? Easy: dim sum in Seattle is mediocre, while just over two hours north in Richmond (just south of Vancouver), it’s simply amazing. As a result, I save my dim sum cravings for trips across the border.

That said, the dim sum at Wild Ginger wasn’t bad. You won’t find anything exotically authentic like chicken feet on the menu, and the standard-bearer har gow is a far cry from what you’ll find at Richmond’s Shiang Garden, but the overall quality was good and food that comes in baskets is usually fun. I ate most of the menu, including hum bow, har gow, shu mai, scallop and chive dumplings, five spice-scented beef dumplings, salt water dumplings (lightly fried, mochi style–very interesting), and sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaf, which was perhaps the most daring dish for the group.

So what does Wild Ginger’s dim sum teach us about sex?

It’s all about how sharing improves your sex life.

Dumplings are a big part of dim sum, and at Wild Ginger, I got a glimpse of the dumpling-making process. Getting a basket of har gow, shu mai, or xiao long bao (at a Shanghainese dim sum place, if we only had one a good one) gives a real appreciation of the dumpling-making process, and watching an expert or trying to make dumplings yourself enhances that appreciation even more.

Dumplings and dumpling-making remind me of housework. Washing the vegetables is like washing the laundry. Arranging the Chinese equivalent of mise en place is all about the importance of being organized. Folding of dumpling wrappers represents the folding of laundry. Putting items in steel or bamboo baskets is like putting things away in the proper place of your home. And so on. You have to be organized. You have to be steadfast and disciplined. You have to be committed to the job.

The good news: Sharing the workload can lay the path to pleasure.

Pioneering sex educator Sol Gordon used to say, “Of the ten most important things in a human relationship, I would rank sexual fulfillment ninth, just ahead of sharing household tasks,” adding, “That’s not to say sex isn’t important; it’s still in the top ten of the 3,917 important things in a relationship.”

When one person carries the workload, he or she can get tired, lose interest, or get resentful and hold sex hostage. Recent studies show that people who share household tasks have better sex. Those tasks can be broadly defined–like handling the finances, tending to the garden, and walking the dog–and should then be negotiated.

Heck, cooking itself is one of those tasks, though it should be a fun one.

The sharing extends to eating. At dim sum, when the baskets arrive, you often have to discuss how you’ll share the dumplings inside. Or how you’ll divvy up that sticky rice. A dim sum brunch at Wild Ginger might reveal a lot about your sex life, and hopefully be full of fun, hot surprises.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 25, 2011.

Note: This meal, coincidentally, also broke my streak of ten years without entry into Wild Ginger. I went a few times when I first moved to Seattle, but then discovered Malay Satay Hut, which I then called “Wild Ginger at one-third the atmosphere, but one-third the price” for food I actually preferred. Wild Ginger’s food was certainly more refined, but Malay Satay’s food was bold and vibrant. (Note that Malay Satay Hut’s quality has since declined dramatically.) And while Wild Ginger has been a fixture in Urbanspoon’s list of top fine dining choices in Seattle, I agreed with the panelists I oversaw in editing the Fearless Critic Seattle Restaurant Guide who said that while the Seattle Wild Ginger location “is impressive in its design” with service that “is professional and efficient,” “the food feels as dated as its logo’s Orientalist font.” (See the book for further criticism, though on a positive note, we wrote that the wine list “is a work of profound beauty, elegance, and deep obsession…this is more than a wine list, it is a gift to the city.”)

This report will cover:

• Kirin
• Empire Seafood Restaurant
• Shiang Garden
• Lin Chinese Cuisine and Tea House
• Peaceful Restaurant
• Suhang Restaurant
• Shanghai River
• Long’s Noodle House
• Kam Do Restaurant & Bakery
• Li Do Restaurant
• New Town Bakery and Restaurant
• Saint Germain Bakery
• Chef Hung Taiwanese Beef Noodle
• Tri-Pot and Delicious Cuisine
• Bei Jiang
• Delizia Fusion Cuisine
• HK BBQ Master

Dim Sum: Cantonese

When not taking the train, I like to leave Seattle by car about 9:15am, which avoids morning rush hour traffic. It also means arriving in Richmond before noon, which is good timing for dim sum seating. (Even better, if you can, is to arrive before 11am, as some restaurants discount dim sum up to 30%, though not all dishes may be available.)

Perhaps the fanciest and priciest of dim sum places is Kirin, which has an outpost downtown in addition to its Richmond location. At these prices, expect high quality—and Kirin delivers it, though I think the Richmond restaurant is slightly better than downtown. Har gow (shrimp dumplings) is the item by which I measure dim sum quality, and Kirin’s is right near the top. Kirin is a good place to introduce newbies to dim sum items like har gow, siu mai (another dumpling—the scallop one is especially delicious), hum bao (barbequed pork bun), and the like. Maybe challenge them with fried taro puffs (pictured below, with the har gow), which are a favorite. You’ll get a fancy feeling being seated here and ordering off the dim sum menu. (As much as I find cart service fun, asking for peeks below the bamboo basket lids, I find the quality of the made-fresh-to-order dim sum better.)

I’d been to both Empire Chinese Cuisine on Alexandra Road and Empire Seafood Restaurant at Westminster Highway and No. 3 Road, but tips from friends on what to order made me realize that the latter Empire is the one to admire. Empire Seafood seems more popular than ever, and as at any of these dim sum places, I highly recommend a reservation—especially if you’re going with a group and on the weekend. You’ll want one here. The har gow is pretty good, as are most of the other dishes. I highly recommend the sweet pork buns (a nice alternative to the traditional hum bao), geoduck and razor clam congee, and the baked tapioca pudding (with “pineapple”-looking top) for dessert. (Har gow, siu mai, sweet pork buns, and tapioca pudding are pictured below.)

By far my top pick for dim sum is Shiang Garden. It’s elegant like Kirin, with nice linens and high-back chairs. Typical with places like this, it’s hard to get a smile with your service, but the servers are earnest and polite. You’ll want to order an extra basket or two of har gow (pictured below, along with the chicken feet), as this is the best around, and everyone will want seconds or thirds. Whereas at other places the shrimp is chopped up and clumpy, here you can see the whole shrimps through the thin, translucent dumpling wrappers. They’re plump and juicy, sweet and slightly briny. The dumplings offer a crisp bite—a snap of freshness that tastes, well, almost alive.

If Shiang Garden has them, be sure to also get the shrimp, ginger and century egg rolls, chicken feet in black bean sauce, and duck tongues with tofu or whatever way they offer them. Avoid the xiao long bao. I doubt they’re making them fresh (this is not a Shanghainese restaurant); the ones I’ve had have lost all the soup and were small and bland.

Dim Sum: Shanghainese

I’m always amazed how many Shanghainese restaurants there are in Richmond/Vancouver. When I go for Shanghainese food, I’m always looking for good xiao long bao (soup dumplings), which are often better than what you find at the beloved Din Tai Fung in Bellevue.

Many people like Lin Chinese Cuisine on West Broadway in Vancouver. The xiao long bao here are not bad, and certainly better than almost everything in Seattle, but the skins were a little thick and the dumplings didn’t have the tell-tale droop promising lots of soup inside. Still, this is a decent stop for Chinese food, and convenient if you want to stroll around Kitsilano or have some sweets afterward at the irresistible Thomas Haas Chocolates just down the street. The cumin lamb was pretty good, and I liked the salted radish cake (pictured below, with the xiao long bao).

You can find have a similar experience at Peaceful Restaurant, also on West Broadway in Vancouver. Peaceful isn’t Shanghainese (it seems to be a hybrid, with a large Sichuanese influence), but I include it because baskets of xiao long bao are also popular here. Unfortunately, most of them leaked, which makes me sad—and mad. I enjoyed several other dishes here, with my favorite by far the beef rolls, which are said to be the best in town. They’re fun to look at and even better to eat, the flaky rolled pancake buttressing five-spice beef further spiked with bean paste. (The beef rolls are pictured below, along with Sichuan A-choy, cilantro lamb, and xiao long bao.)

Suhang Restaurant is a lesser-known restaurant on Ackroyd Road. Well, lesser-known to me. Many people were waiting for tables while I ate. The slogan of this restaurant is “The Master of Dim Sum.” Let’s start off with what not to order: the xiao long bao. The wrappers were too thick, there was not enough soup inside (and some dumplings had completely leaked), and the flavor was off. This was not their strong suit.

What my group really wanted to try was the mud-baked chicken Hangzhou style ($42). More commonly known as “beggar’s chicken,” this is a chicken stuffed with sticky rice, wrapped in lotus leaves, and then cooked in a mud ball. The unveiling (pictured below, along with bean curd and “special vegetable”) is a production, as the server brings it to the table, carefully cracks it open, and then pulls back the leaves. As with a piñata, you’ll want the goodies inside: moist and flavorful rice, along with meat falling off the bone. I saw other tables eating other large platters of meat, making me want to return here with an even bigger group.

Ready to get serious about xiao long bao? Right up at the top of the pack is Shanghai River. In contrast to all the other Shanghainese restaurants, Shanghai River feels classy and offers crisp service. I love the glass-walled kitchen which begs viewing of the dumpling-making process. The quality of the food here is quite good, though ultimately I come primarily for the xiao long bao. The skins are thinner than elsewhere, and the broth has a more refined flavor. The dumplings don’t seem as small and delicate as they were in the past, but I need to dig through my photo archives for evidence. Another sign of possible erosion: the tofu and celery dish, with its hints of sesame oil and soy sauce that I still love, was missing the symmetrical, fine cuts of the past–at least last visit. (Both the tofu and xiao long bao are pictured below.)

My favorite Shanghainese place is Long’s Noodle House. This is a small, non-descript restaurant on Main Street in Vancouver (south of downtown, next to a popular Vietnamese restaurant called Au Petit Café) with a handful of tables (the large round one in the window always seems to be hosting a big, boisterous group) and very friendly service. You’ll likely need to ask questions about menu items, and even then you might not be sure what you’re getting.

What you’ve got to get are the xiao long bao (tied in quality with Shanghai River, though more rustic with thicker skins and a fattier broth—which I actually like—and the tell-tale soup droop) and the drunken chicken, which is the best in town. I adore the little crocks (see photo at the top of this post) stuffed with chicken slices that have been stewing in wine, allowing the flavor to grab hold. It’s not a dish I’d expect to love, due to its subtlety, but maybe I’m learning to appreciate subtlety, at least a bit? Aside from a crispy rice dish which the server recommended but we all disliked (I don’t understand the appeal of this dish), I’ve enjoyed just about everything I’ve tried at Long’s, and am eager to try more. My latest find: jellyfish head, large and gelatinous. (Pictured, above, along with spicy wontons, pea vines, tan tan noodles, and of course the xiao long bao.)

Bakeries

I should mention that for years, my base of operation in Richmond has been Four Points by Sheraton on Alexandra Road. I cash in hotel points for room stays, and believe the property offers good value for a low-frills hotel, though I was surprised to see the swimming pool and Jacuzzi recently replaced by a conference room. There’s a restaurant on the ground floor, but with the culinary delights of Alexandra Road’s restaurant row (not to mention the rest of Richmond) right outside the door, I don’t need onsite food when staying at this particular hotel.

Across from the Sheraton is Kam Do. It’s a bustling place offering sit-down service, but I always get baked goods to go. On this particular occasion, I got a variety of treats, with my favorites being a wife cake (or sweetheart cake, made with winter melon, almond paste, and a touch of five spice powder), and a preserved duck egg in lotus paste pastry that was both gooey and good. (Shown, below, sliced open.)

I did do a sit-down at the also-busy Li Do, as I’d heard so much about the fresh-from-the-oven pineapple buns. (They’re not made with pineapple, but the sugary topping is baked to a crusty finish, resembling a pineapple, shown below.) I walked in and noticed a sheet tray of the buns, so I knew I’d have to wait for a fresh batch. My companion ordered some rice rolls, and I nursed a milk tea while waiting. And waiting. And “reading” all the Chinese signs around me. And rejoicing when a nearby table ordered most of the “old” pineapple buns. I’m not sure if my server was amused with my waiting, but I was happy she understood my request, and at long last she brought me a warm bun. Was it worth the wait? A good one-time experience.

There are buns like this all over the Richmond, part of a variety of baked goods. In the Aberdeen Centre, and elsewhere through the area, you’ll find Saint Germain Bakery (right). It seems to be Chinese with Japanese influence, and my partner (who’s Japanese) couldn’t resist the mont blanc. It looked a little different than the typical one, but chestnut is chestnut, and she just had to give it a try—faster than I could take a photo of it. Verdict: ma-ma hu-hu (so-so).

Such is my feeling about the New Town Bakery chain. I have friends who go to get dozens of hum bao, placing an order to prevent sell-out and then picking them up shortly before leaving town. We went to the Chinatown location in Vancouver. I heard about the apple tarts and wanted to give them a try, and while not bad, I missed a fresh apple taste. The hum bao (below) are okay. My partner was happy that I wasn’t wowed by them, so that she could claim them all. They freeze and reheat well, and she was thrilled to stock up on a stash of both the chicken and the minced pork with vegetable versions to eat for breakfast, or for lunchtime at work.

Taiwanese

Recall that these three food reports are based on my last three trips to Vancouver and Richmond. During the final trip, Amtrak struggled through a winter storm, and following the delay, my partner and I took SkyTrain from Vancouver’s Main Street Station (a very short walk from Pacific Central Station) back to Richmond. From Aberdeen Station, we rolled our luggage on the snowy sidewalks and into Aberdeen Centre. Cold and hungry, we headed right to Chef Hung Taiwanese Beef Noodle. I’m crazy about beef noodle soup, as are the Taiwanese; in fact, the country holds an annual competition to determine the best soup-maker. Chef Hung is apparently a previous winner, and here you can sample the winning bowl (and watch it get made in through glass windows) without having to go to Taiwan. (That said, you should visit Taiwan if you can.)

Chef Hung has sides and snacks (we ordered spicy beef tendons, which were far from spicy enough for us), and a full menu of teas, but you’re here for beef noodle soup. You’ll get a “scorecard” to fill out, mixing and matching noodles, meats, and types of soup (tomato, clear, etc.). My partner and I both like thicker noodles, so that was easy, but we wanted to try one bowl the most traditional way (Champion beef shank with noodle in soup, above left), and another bowl with a variety of meats (beef shank, tendon and tripe) in fire chile soup (above right). These are good bowls of soup, more refined than most I’ve had. The noodles were the highlight (where can we get noodles that good in Seattle?), and the shank was nice and tender. But the bowls are a bit expensive ($10.95 for the Champion bowl), with some people scowling that it’s too much to pay for beef noodle soup. There are cheaper bowls around Richmond and Vancouver, and I hope someday to see how they match in quality.

Another great option for Taiwanese food in Richmond is on the other side of No. 3 Road. Actually, there are a few things happening at one site. Tri-Pot is street food served from a counter inside of Zephyr Tea House Café. Billed as “Vancouver’s first Taiwanese style low-carb snack,” it’s like a little oden stand where you order a la carte. Most items are $2 (pig intestine, ear, chicken heart, beef tendon, blood rice cake, yuba, noodles, and more), but some are $3 (mostly various seafood balls and dumplings). Your choices get chopped and then cooked in a secret recipe stock, all right before your eyes. They’re then thrown in a bowl, topped with Taiwanese pickles and green onions, along with optional hot sauce and cilantro. (See top left photo, below.) The flavor’s great, but here we’re talking texture—lots of textures. I can happily make a meal of this, and it brings me back to walking through the night markets in Taiwan sampling lots of animal parts. But, hey, no cock’s-comb or duck head?

The other part of the property is properly named Delicious Cuisine. The chef won accolades from the Vancouver Chinese Restaurant Awards for his icy crystal eggs (above, top right photo, with stew and three-up chicken just below), which were simply divine. I devoured dishes like three-cup chicken and something called “stew tofu with crab egg in casserole,” whereas a more Westernized dish like shrimp with mayonnaise did little for me. By special request, I even sampled some of the broth for the beef noodle soup, and it made me want to come back for a bowl—but at a time when I wasn’t already stuffed and still off to two more restaurants that evening.

Other Chinese Food

Toward the end of Alexandra Road east of No. 3 Road is a Xinjiang-style restaurant called Bei Jiang. A few of us went there as part of a two-part lunch, partaking in an impressive feast. As the Xinjiang region has a large population of Uighur Muslims, you won’t find pork on the menu, but you will find lots of lamb dishes, which I especially love. This is rustic, peasant, northern food, definitely meant to be filling. I could sit and enjoy mutton chops and skewers here all day long. (Pictured below: diced chicken, potato, and bell peppers with handmade noodles; house pancake with cumin lamb; mutton chops; mutton soup; fried green peppers; lamb skewers.)

Also on Alexandra Road is Delizia Fusion Cuisine. This is the type of Chinese food that least interests me, fusioned with French in a more upscale setting. I can see it appealing to those on business staying at the Sheraton across the street—particularly those who are skittish about all the other Chinese food that surrounds them. (Which would only make me wonder what they are doing in Richmond.) The only thing I knew about this restaurant before going in was that it won an award as part of the “Top 100 Chinese Restaurants in Canada,” but unlike the better-known Vancouver Chinese Restaurant Awards, Top 100 is somewhat mysterious. It looks like a pay-to-play operation, a la the Top Steakhouses in America ads that run in airline magazines. After all, can Wasabi Japanese Restaurant in Orange, Connecticut really be one of the top 100 Chinese restaurants in America? Or how about Meteor Buffet in Huntsville, Alabama?

That said, I could see the care going into the preparation of the dishes: utilization of higher quality ingredients, refined flavors, particular attention to plating. My menu included “duo foie gras” (pictured above), blue abalone and sharkfin consommé, Peking duck roti roll, boneless Cornish hen stuffed with black truffle and foie gras fried rice (pictured above), lobster thermidor “Delizia” (pictured above), and tempura ice cream. Good if you like this sort of thing.

Stuffed silly at the end of the last of three trips, I convinced my exhausted travel companions to try one more restaurant as we headed out of Richmond: HK BBQ Master. I’d heard that this was the place for barbecued meats. It’s a little tricky to find, seemingly tucked behind and under the Real Canadian Superstore off of No. 3 Road, but the locals sure know of its existence. This restaurant does a thriving take-out business, and the few tables are also in high demand.

We ordered two different platters. (See above.) Toss aside the perfunctory broccoli garnishes, as you’re here for the meat: BBQ pork, roast pork, BBQ duck, and soy sauce chicken. The quality of the meat stirred my friends back to life, and I’m still thinking about it all, especially the both pork preparations. I applaud the title in the restaurant name, which is well-deserved. Bravo, BBQ Master. I’ll be back.

Final Thoughts

This is just the tip of the iceberg of Chinese restaurants in Vancouver—and especially in Richmond. Again, this report reflects restaurants I visited in my last three visits there. One can only eat so much in a given day! When not eating, it’s fun to explore Richmond. I’ve enjoyed walking around Steveston, renting a bike and riding on the scenic trails, popping into the little grocery stores as well as the big Yaohan Plaza with its food court, going to the Richmond Night Market, nibbling my way through the Richmond Public Market—oops, it’s gotten back to food again. In contrast to the wonderful but pricey treatments at the spas in Vancouver, you can enjoy value and a cultural experience by trying one of the many Chinese foot reflexology places in Richmond. (My latest was at Gold Medal Foot Reflexology, where an hour of shoulder, back, and foot ran about $35.) Or, do as I do when hitting a food coma: fall asleep in one of the big massage chairs in the store that sells them on the bottom floor of the Aberdeen Centre. Then, wake up, and you’ll be ready for more food. You won’t have to go far.

Note: Watch this space, as I will try to add reports about additional Vancouver/Richmond restaurants (especially if I can dig out my old photos) as time allows.

Dish:

On the plate: I ordered this dish because the name gives away little about its contents. Turns out the noodles are sitting in a brown sauce, covered with a variety of vegetables and meats.

Supporting cast: Nothing comes with the dish. But you might want to add something to spike it up.

What to do: Admire the “goodies,” then start eating.

Noodling around: Even more fun than seeing the name of this dish on the menu is trying to say it out loud to the server without laughing. I failed. “I’ll have the assorted goodies (chuckle) over crunchy noodles (guffaw)” got me a polite smile.

The dish is made with fresh thin egg noodles that are pan-fried, crisping up in oil. That gives nice texture, but take advantage of that quickly, as the noodles are designed to sop up the sauce in which they sit. The sauce, I’ll add, is that generic Chinese brown sauce which I find a bit flavorless; I was reaching for the chile sauce on the shelf above my table, but my companion suggested we ask for vinegar. She expected white vinegar, served in Japan with dishes like this, but we got black. Either will enhance the flavor.

The goodies included shreds of chicken and pork of so-so quality, along with some shrimp, as well as some vegetables. The broccoli, baby bok choy, and carrots appeared to be fresh, but the mushrooms, water chestnuts, and baby corn were clearly of the canned variety.

Overall, this was an interesting dish to try, but not one I’d order again, given some of the bolder items on the menu.

If you want more: Rocking Wok has a wide variety of dumplings and dim sum items that would make for good side dishes. The stinky tofu smelled tempting, at least to me, and I’m always game for good xiao long bao–but I’ve heard that’s not the case here. Instead, I’d recommend stewed baby bamboo shoots ($2.95) for something a little spicy.

Be aware/beware: I’m always intrigued by Rocking Wok’s location on a residential corner in Wallingford. And I’m further intrigued by the walk to the bathroom, which takes you between kitchen areas for a peek (some may prefer to pass on this) at the food preparation. One more item of intrigue: the single-serving hot pots posted on the wall, including one of chicken with marinated pineapple and bitter melon that I’m now pining to try.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on April 12, 2011.

Yesterday I posted pictures of pig-filled plates outside of Seattle, and promised you local options. Here they are. Most are Asian, with appreciation of the utilization of as much of the animal as possible. Pictured above is bopis, which is a spicy and vinegary saute of pork heart and lungs. I recently discovered bopis at Family Time Restaurant in Shoreline, where it’s a special served on weekends only. The textures of this dish, as with all the offal dishes I’ll mention, are part of what make it special. Bopis reminds me of dinuguan–pork blood stew, another favorite of mine. (It typically has pork liver, and I’ve had versions with pig ears and intestines.)

Speaking of pork blood, another favorite is the Vietnamese soup called bun bo hue. I like the version (and the atmosphere) at Hoang Lan by the Othello Station light rail stop. Bun bo hue feature rice noodles (spaghetti-like) in beef broth with braised beef, pork blood cakes, pork liver, and a pork hock. To this you add the accompanying bean sprouts, shredded cabbage, sliced banana blossoms, cilantro, jalapeno, and lime. This noodle bowl is perfect for both a cold, wintry day, or even a hot summer one.

The pork dish in the area with my favorite name is “The Other Parts of a Pig,” on the “Wild Side” menu at Bamboo Garden in Bellevue. It also has pork blood cakes, along with pork intestines and tofu chunks. There’s pickled cabbage and a tangy broth. You can ask them to make it as fiery as you can handle. As you can see from the photo, I say the redder, the better. There are some other adventurous dishes on that Wild Side menu, so I encourage you to explore.

Looking for something more “mainstream”? I thought back over the years, and the pork dish that stands out most in my mind is a Carleton Farms pork chop that Renee Erickson prepared at Boat Street Cafe. Erickson’s famous for her pickles, and here the pickled raisins packed a powerful punch. And the layers of mild-tasting leeks mixed with Beecher’s cheddar cheese made the dish all-the-more decadent.

Dish:

In the bowl: Your choice of noodles, plus liver, kidney, stomach, and other pork pieces in a fish and pork broth with sliced green onions.

Supporting cast: A bowl with soy sauce, black vinegar, and diced jalapenos.

What to do: Per the server’s instructions, you’ll want to eat the noodles as quickly as possible so that they stay firm. “That’s how we do it in Hong Kong,” she explained, adding, “We don’t talk when we eat these noodles.” There’s time for talking post-noodles, when dipping the pork in the bowl of sauce.

Noodling around: Mike’s has an extensive menu of dry noodles, soup noodles, and congee. If you order a noodle dish, you’ll have a choice of thin egg noodles, wide rice noodles, thick rice noodles (spaghetti-like), and lai fun noodles (a thick, short noodle generally made from rice flour).

Those thin egg noodles (”toothpick thin,” said the server) are the specialty, and remind me of morning noodle meals I enjoyed Hong Kong, so I went with those. As the server advised, it’s good to eat them as quickly as possible to appreciate their chewy, almost crisp texture. Go slowly, and they’ll get soft and soggy.

I love the variety of pig parts, especially the liver–so tender and slightly mineral-tasting. The other meat pieces provide a great variety of texture to the experience, but I might consider a bowl of pork liver noodles next time.

If still hungry: The noodle bowls look small, but they’re pretty filling. Still, a vegetable dish makes for a nice side. There’s always Chinese broccoli, lettuce, or bok choy with oyster sauce ($4.70), but if it’s in-season, go for the ung choy with preserved tofu sauce for the same price.

Be aware/beware: This can be a very bustling restaurant, so you’ll probably want to eat fast–not just for the sake of the noodles, but for the sake of those waiting for a table. Still, service is friendly and helpful, so don’t be afraid to ask questions about anything on the menu.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on March 22, 2011.