Wong King's

My Sunday usually follows this ritual:

Wake up at around 10
drink 5 pints of water
curl into the fetal position on the couch
watch No Reservations/Bizarre food/Iron Chef/Jon and Kate plus 8/Whatever mindless television that will distract me from my dehydrated body
do that until 2, when i have to start getting ready for work.

i know, its sad, i'm trying to fix it.

A couple of weeks ago, i happened to be watching Bizarre Foods, and that day Andrew Zimmern was exploring Hong Kong and the wonderful world that it dim sum. So I called (texted) Robert.

"11:30, Wong King's. Dim sum"

When I arrive, I grab a numbered ticket, 213, and ask the perfectly costumed hostess what number they were on.

I need you to imagine your thickest Chinese accent, because to phonetically write it out may just be too offensive/complicated.
"Number one thirty five"

Knowing it would be quite a wait, I bring the tom robbins book i've been trying to take time to read, and i wait for my dining partner's arrival. Just as i was about to whip out a cigarette to pass the time, my aunt, tiny perky adorable, comes up to me and says hello. This is how much Wong King's is a dim sum mecca. I believe every time i've eaten here i've run into her and her family. Her family from the outer edges of beaverton. They braved tunnels, bridges, urbanism and 82nd ave, just for the perfect morsel of har gow and siu mai. well done, Ming Vong, well done. All asians, chinese, vietnamese, cambodian, etc know where the good stuff is, and that is on Division past 82nd.

Many an article, as you have probably read, has mentioned that (asian)immigrant culture has immigrated from china town (decrepit amalgamation of the homeless, the drunk, and the immoral) to the lands of 82nd ave (decrepit amalgamation of used-car lots, prostitutes, and gang activity).

When Petruchio finally arrives, its still another half hour before we get seated. I hardly had a chance to pour our teas when we were immediately confronted by an overly energetic chinese man with tray in hand

"Steam dumpling with beef tripe and shrimp"

We look at each other, confused and intrigued, and obediently nod our heads. Why not? I am ready to ravenously dive into the little metal pot for some unidentified and unfamiliar dumpling. Then this miniscule woman comes charging in with her giant cart in tow, and pokes her head smartly between me and my chopsticks.

"Har gow, siu mai"

These two things being the reason i ever go to dim sum, caught me off guard. I was looking at my first order beckoning to me, a mere few inches from my face only to be taunted by this woman for to order more. So I ordered them both. Robert and I smile at each other with approval. I was hungry and ready to indulge in my craving for shrimp and bamboo shoots. Before I knew it, another little Chinese woman rolled by, our chopsticks still in midair and ready to dive into our untouched dishes. She stops us and tries, in indistinguishable english, to demonstrate how wonderful chinese broccoli is.

I'll save you the rest. Cut to about 15 minutes later. 8 plates in front of us, most of them containing shrimp, and not one morsel has been eaten. I have confused their friendly nature as good service, but really it was an attack from all angles. They were pushers, delicious steamed treat pushers. Taro root bun? pork dumpling? shrimp rice noodles? They knew i was itching, and vulnerable. I needed a fix and they were eager to provide it for me.

Finally, I was able to say "no", and with that most of our dim sum carrying friends left us alone, smirking at our table spotted with small plates. Job well done. Its time to eat.

Har gow: my favorite. Honestly, if you are an apprehensive round-eye, i recommend you start with this. It just shrimp and bamboo in a tapioca wrapper, and cooked in a bamboo steamer (most dim sum is). its skin is nice and sticky and finishes with a happy little crunch from the bamboo. i could eat 12 orders of this.

Siu mai: another classic, it is a pork and black mushroom dumpling. Because of the pork, i always get caught biting into some sort of fat pocket which kind of grosses me out. As much as i love it, i am always poking it around my plate

hom bao: also known as the chopstick safe kid food. Its a steamed bun made of a sweet flour and filled with salty barbeque pork. I love to grab it with my hands and peel off the paper bottom, break off each piece and give it a little pinch. Also, White people friendly.

Among other things, we had those dishes along with Taro dumplings, Shrimp rice noodles and that unidentified first dish. We were full, and Robert told me a story about his classmate that he thinks is a narcissist, then i realized that i related to his classmate. Now i am afraid that i am a narcissist. but i forgot that i am blogging, and now i am blogging about my concern about being a narcissist, which may be (besides throwing your very one fake funeral) the perfect example of one's self-centeredness.

Moving along, the trek you'll make to Wong king's, as well as the bombardment of food pushers you'll defend yourself from is well worth the circus you'll have in your mouth. I recommend everyone try the phoenix talons and beef tripe at least once in their lives.