whoa its almost been a year!
recap:
I am still holding hands with the boy I held hands with in the last post. appropriately he is a very very talented cook who has a bizarre love for Martin Yan.
I haven't stopped eating. Notably:
A Cena: GET the lobster ravioli
Pok Pok (w/ dad): "it is amazing what a little marketing can do" -Dad
Mee sen (w/ dad): "this is so much better than pok pok" -dad
Red onion (w/ dad): "Every Thai restaurant should have crab fried rice" -dad
Gilt club: burger with foie gras? no. gourmet pork rinds? yes. 30% S.I. Discount? yes. Open til 2:30? yes. Tracy's first love? yes
Yoko's/C-bar: SAKE!!! delicious late-night bar food and pinball
Ping: skewers. over priced. eh. Asian food made by white people
Cassidy's: I love pickled eggs
Gruner: I do not love rabbit liver
Belly: boring food but the cocktails blew my mind
Clyde Common: tripe, never had it outside of pho, now i understand why most people are apprehensive about it. simple/tasty HH. Mr. Z bought me a cookie ":) Good bourbon = good gelato
Wongs King (dinner): Mr Z ordered sweet and sour pork. while i ordered lobster, hong kong style chow mein and a very disappointing pepper-salted squid
But it was FRANKS'S NOODLE HOUSE that compelled me to blog tonight (and avoid folding my laundry). Former proprietor of Beaverton's Du Kuh Bee opened up this little spot on Broadway. A most welcomed addition to the lackluster presence of good food eateries over there. Frank's enthusiasm and cheerfulness was really what sold me. While the snail salad and sauteed octopus were almost painfully similar and unmemorable the noodles were out of this world. The noodles were thick and chewy, only the way noodles can be when they are made by hand. The shreds of cabbage, onions and carrots were nicely coated with chili oil and gave just a sublte spice to the dish. Was it Korean or was it Chinese? I do not know, but my grin was as large as the one of the Noodle guy's on their restaurant sign. I will definitely come back for lunch, and maybe try something different for dinner. Korean short ribs, anyone?
love
Showing posts with label chinese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chinese. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Friday, September 26, 2008
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.
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.
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