Flavor Boulevard

Short films are the best, because sometimes I get cravings in the middle of the night and there are no restaurants open (I wish something opened between midnight and 5 am, a rice porridge stall or a noodle soup vendor would be nice).

1. Omelette – by Madeline Sharafian. (Copyright CalArts Films)
Simple and sweet.

2. French Roast – (Oscar Nominated Animated Short 2010)
It’s coffee, not really food, but still…

3. Love Recipe – by Felipe Pizarro S. and Frédéric Bajou
Glamourous and vibrant, also kinda meaningless.

4. Taste of Nostalgia – by Raymond Lau (Aniboom Animation)
I cried.

Bonus: Crayon Dragon – by Toniko Pantoja (CalArts)
Not food, but it’s so bittersweet.

If you know me in person, you know that my only hanging-out activity is eating with friends. I like it to a sin. Now, recently, First We Feast published a list of “great places to dine alone in NYC“. I find the connotation somewhat unfair against introverts, myself included. Why do we treat “dining alone” as separate from “dining”? EVERY place is a great (or mediocre) place to dine alone. What makes a place great (or mediocre) are the food and the service, NOT the number of bodies you sit with.

In college, I noticed that all of my roommates shared a common habit: they ABSOLUTELY had to call someone to go eat with them at the cafeteria, if they couldn’t find someone, they curled up in the room with mac ‘n cheese or some takeout. Recently, a friend of mine felt stressed out, I told her to treat herself to a nice dinner, but she said that wouldn’t work because eating out alone would make her look pathetic. It’s not just her either. You rarely see a table of one at nice restaurants. Somehow, eating out alone is considered sad, awkward, something to “get used to”, especially for the ladies. It shouldn’t be. The company at a meal can boost the experience, but it is NOT a necessary condition to eat out. The party-of-one experience is not to be approached with the mindset of “how to do it right”. You don’t think of how to correctly eat s’mores or drink hot chocolate on a rainy day, right? Party-of-one is one of the most relaxing and carefree activities, right up there with hot chocolate and pajamas on rainy days. Here’s why:

1. No need to think of things to say. Dinner conversation can make or break a dining experience. With no dining companion, you don’t have to worry about the awkward small talk, the touchy subjects, how not to bore your company to death (or pretend that you’re not being bored), and the green onion on your teeth.

2. Perfect time to read. Or pretend to read and eavesdrop instead. Or observe people, including the kitchen staff.

“Party of One” by Anne Teigen
I stumbled on this painting while reading an Art of the Soul blog post. Just look at the lady in this painting, there’s an air of sophistication and charm around her. When I see a lone diner, I often see an art form that I would want to capture on paper. Thank you Anne Teigen for permission to show the painting here.

3. Eat all you can. I’ve long passed the point where I eat only a small amount to appear like a delicate little lady (not sure if I ever did that at all, although my mom used to remind me not to eat like a piglet every time I went out), but really, we’re all conscious of how much we eat, depending on who we eat with. Eating alone gives you the full freedom to indulge, and that means I can order 5 different dishes for myself (and take home most of them, if I like them). Eating at a restaurant should be a self-indulgent event, where you can eat delicious food without preparing and cleaning, so why not enjoy it to its fullest?

4. Enjoy the meal at your own pace. It’s awkward to let my food sit around to cool down a little when my friend already works their plate. It’s awkward when I finish before they do and stare at them eating. It’s also awkward when they finish before I do and stare at me eating.

5. Eat anything you want to. Dining with company means that, to some degree, you have to be considerate of your company’s food preference, or sacrifice your own preference. If I tell people I don’t want a certain type of cuisine for dinner, but they like that cuisine, I feel bad. If I don’t tell them and we go somewhere that serves that type of cuisine, I’m stranded. I’m also the sort that likes to share food at the table, so no matter how much I want the stuffed squid, I won’t order it in the presence of my vegan friend. I can order anything when I eat alone.

6. Eat when you want to. Just wake up, get out of work, don’t feel like cooking, or have screwed up your cooking experiment completely? Going to restaurants on a whim, whether for lunch at 3 pm or dinner at 10 pm, is an unparallel liberation.

7. No messy scheduling to arrange a dinner with friends. The more people you plan to share a dinner with, the harder it is to find a time that works for everyone. And that’s not counting the food preferences (see #5).

8. Quick to get seated. There will always be room for a party of one.

I’m not bashing dining with company. Sharing food with people you like is undoubtedly enjoyable, but for a culture that preaches independence as much as the American culture, it’s baffling that dining alone is such a taboo. There’s only one reason that makes enough sense to me: I once read that servers don’t like parties of one because fewer people means less tip, a very American issue but still understandable, so I was a bit taken aback. Now, every time I eat out alone, I make sure to order at least 3 courses and tip well. Then I crawl home like a python after swallowing an elephant, a happy python. 😉

Berkeley is known for many things.

The protests, the hippies, the arts, homeless people, the diversity and the acceptance of that diversity (you can literally see every type of people and every type of activity in this city, and anyone who has actually lived here would stop seeing them as different types of people, just as people).

Berkeley also has the best public university in America, and actually the only public university that ranks above the Ivy league schools in many disciplines. (Public universities usually suffer in rankings not because of the students’ quality or the teaching quality, but because of the professor-to-student ratio, which is lower than those of private schools. Why? Ask the government about funding for public schools.) UC Berkeley was the reason I came to Berkeley, and for a while I hardly thought of the city as anything but the school. For a while, the academic life was my only life, and what I had planned for was a straight path into academia (and never out of it). But things change, and on some days, I feel lost. This is when I find that the city of Berkeley is more than the university it contains. That it has people who want to make change, who actually do it, who are willing to teach others how to do it, and some that are all three. Perhaps even more importantly, it hosts the environments where I can meet those people.

The dinner event that HUB Bay Area organized last week is one of those environments. Originally, I was hesitant to go, the official name of the event is “Innovate Berkeley: Sustainable Economic Development – East Bay Social Innovation Dinner”, and its list of participants include CEOs and founders of companies, architects, scientists, people who have not only ideas but the experience of doing something pertaining to the economy, and what do I put in the register box? “Student”. I was hesitant because I didn’t have anything to bring to the table. In the end, I went.

HUB dinner buffet – prepared by chef Hugh Groman and his catering staff. Baby lettuce salad with plum, goat cheese, pine nuts and sweet poppy seed vinaigrette; potato salad with celery, red onion, sweet pickle and egg; lentil salad with sundried tomatoes, radish, carrots and scallions; and lovely fried chicken (I’ve been craving fried chickens for some time, too…)

The evening began with some beer drinking and mingling. The ice breaker is a casual handshake and “what brings you here?”, followed by “why not, right? there’s free drinks!” with a chuckle. (I don’t drink, so I chuckled along with my glass of water.) Arriving on the earlier side would make it easier to get into groups, and you would get more time to talk to people, so you get to know more people before breaking up into tables for dinner. (Guess who arrived late?) The dinner is accompanied by a presentation. This time, it was an incredibly inspiring and engaging talk by Dr. Mike North about innovations, how they can be born and how they can be useful. After the talk, everyone moved around again, some grabbed desserts, most started or restarted discussions about ideas, careers, business, community developments. Serious topics. By the end of those conversations, business cards were exchanged.

Although I didn’t have anything to bring to the table, it was alright to be on the receiving end, at least this time. I learned from Barbara Hanna about computer vision, from Mike North and Jaki Levy about engineers and entrepreneurs that get together on the weekends to build communication systems for communities in Gambia, or foot brace for children in Nicaragua. Their projects connect professionals of different fields and materialize their ideas together. I listened in on a conversation among a landscape architect, a software architect and an environmental study post-grad, the topics ranged from business management to insurance policies on buildings. There were artists too, not just tech people and businessmen, and there were talks of practical art projects. The age difference was hardly any barrier: the accomplished people in their 60s were generous, and the start-up owners in their 20s and 30s were confident.

Those conversations, the people and the dinner as a whole represent Berkeley as a city, where every idea is welcome, and everyone is open to new ideas. But unlike the usual social events, these people weren’t playing nice. If you’re wrong, they tell you that you’re wrong, and they explain. Isn’t that how innovations come about, and how Berkeley is a hub for innovations?

Over the course of three hours, I felt completely intimidated, but also motivated. My line of work is one of the farthest way you can remove yourself from humanity, both spatially and chronologically. (I study light that came from outer space 30-40 million years ago. For comparison, homo sapiens appeared about 0.5 million years ago. The folks who study dinosaurs at least still stay on earth). You can imagine the impact I make in people’s lives today: it’s non-existent. The knowledge I have about solving human world problems? Also non-existent. How can I fix that? Where do I fit in this innovative crowd? I haven’t figured it out. So I’ll keep thrusting myself into this type of event until I figure it out.

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I’ve published a less personal version of this post on the Daily Cal, not as an abuse of my editorial power (although it may appear so 😉 ), but because I believe that there are other students who would like to know about this type of event.

Logistics: HUB Berkeley Innovation Dinner is a monthly event organized by HUB Bay Area. The dinner is hosted at HUB Berkeley, 2150 Allston Way, Berkeley, CA 94704. Early Bird tickets cost $31.74 each.

Friday. Nancy messaged Kristen and me that we should meet up early the next morning for breakfast at Jodie’s. We love breakfast. “How early, though?”, I asked.
– I could pick you all up… Mai at 7:45, Kristen at 7:50 ish…
– I have to say, this is insanely early, maybe I would just skip sleeping…
– Well, it is a TINY place next to a salon, I believe. It only seats eight at a time. The shop opens at 8 AM… There is the possibility of going later – 10 ish – but we would have to wait for “turnover” and wouldn’t be sitting with each other…
– …
– They have a table outside… it might be cold… They said they can’t predict if there will be only a few people or a lot… so we could always go a little later, but then we might have to wait for the table, but at least when that happens, we could still all sit together… Shall we try for 8:30 then? A bit of a compromise 😉
– 7:45 or 8:30 are the same to me, so let’s do 7:45. 🙂

Now, I’m an astronomer and a student, those two types of creatures don’t wake up early in the morning, they stay up into the morning. Which is exactly what I did. I stayed all until 7:50 when Nancy and her husband Ken picked me up. Then we swung by Kristen’s apartment. Kristen looked wonderfully bright and lively in pink pants (it might have been a salmon color, but after working the whole night, my color perception has reduced to that of a guy). During the drive, the conversation in the car was actually quite lively too, at one point we talked about male favoritism in ancient Chinese culture, but I won’t dwell on that now. The point is, boy was it the right idea to meet at 7:45, because by the time we arrived at Jodie’s (a bit before 8:30), 4 seats appeared filled. We took the remaining 4 seats.

I felt somewhat bad for the folks who came minutes after us. They were regulars. In fact, everyone there that day was a regular except the four of us. But someone left to wait for someone, 2 seats freed up, they filled in, the conversations started. Nancy and Ken, being long time residents in the Berkeley – Albany area, had no trouble connecting with everyone through stories of local high school principals and colleagues that somehow everyone (but Kristen and me) knew, while Kristen studied the walls of menus and photographs, and I snapped photos of those walls.

A huge mish mash of color papers, some faded, some laminated, covers the wall facing the customers. On each of those papers prints the description of a dish, its name, its number, and its price. I don’t know how long it would take to really read all of them, I lost track after a few panels and focused on taking pictures instead. There’s a normal menu on the counter behind the fruit preserve jars and sauces, too.

Jodie’s has a staff of two: Jodie, and a young guy who works the stove. The young guy hardly spoke. Jodie is a likeable man, he strikes me as a grandpa who would sit at the porch chewing out grandkids and neighborhood kids in a pretending-to-be-mean but loving voice, and no one would ever be afraid of him, he’s someone who makes you feel at home just by saying hello to you. He told us that the stuff in the counter menu are not on the wall, and the stuff on the wall are not on the counter menu. So I stopped reading both altogether.

Nancy knew what she wanted, and she also ordered for Ken after confirming with Ken that she knew what he wanted. So that went quickly. Kristen was up next. I know grits was involved (Kristen likes grits, and Jodie’s is famous for grits), but Kristen couldn’t decide between so many different delicious-sounding combinations, which she told Jodie, and Jodie chewed her out in his pretending-to-be-mean but loving voice. I heard some gigglings and “I don’t know”s, but I was running circles in my head trying to figure out what to get myself.

Then it was my turn. Like I said, I had already given up on reading the menus, so I just started listing what I wanted on my plate: hashbrown, pancake, sausage, scramble eggs. I wanted English muffins too, but Jodie stopped me before I said muffin, “then why don’t you get the Jodie’s Special? It has everything you said.” “Oh… okay.”

Either then or a little before, a lady stepped into the staff area behind the counter, so now Jodie’s has a staff of three. Jodie retreated out of view to prepare portions for each order. The lady took more orders (the line of customers was spewing out the door) and poured coffee. The young cook slapped bacon strips and hashbrown patties onto the sizzling platform. I don’t know how much time passed until we got our food, I alternated between gawking at the bacon and hashbrown browning and scanning the photos that covered the back wall. There were funny quotes, hundreds of pictures of Jodie’s regular customers, some sports photos. Old tattered photos make the place look more run down then it already is, but I can’t imagine decorating this place any other way, they embody too much memories and too many bonds among these people. Jodie’s wouldn’t be Jodie’s without the photos.

The lady told us to taste our food before adding anything to it. Nancy took a bite of her pancakes and grits, then reached for the salt and pepper (or some kind of condiment). Jodie flew out of his prep station into view, “Have you tasted it?” “Yes… !?” “Okay.” Jodie disappeared into the prep station again. [UPDATE: Nancy explained what actually happened: Nancy was going for the syrup bottle, but she had to move the salt and pepper out the way.]

I tried a nibble of Ken’s corned beef, more than I should have of Kristen’s “Jodie’s Special with a Y” (I’m sorry Kristen, it was too good and too close to me, and you were too nice), and I wiped clean my plate. Funny though, I’m not a fan of grits and Kristen’s not a fan of pancakes (which is why she ordered grits and I ordered pancakes), but we were both impressed by the other’s dish. The grits was anything but bland, it has an indescribable flavor that possibly comes from the grease on the griddle (or maybe just years of bacon smoke in the air?). The pancake was fluffy and buttery, it didn’t even need syrup. The bacon was thick and crunchy. The scramble eggs were creamy. For Kristen and me, Jodie’s has raised the bar for breakfast.

For Nancy, Jodie’s changed something else.
– I’ve been ribbed about having a coffee facebook theme…
– Why coffee?
– It kinda came from being at Jodie’s, although I never have coffee at diners… I’m always disappointed… But yeah, every one was having coffee in those diner type cups… made me nostalgic for my youth – going out for breakfast and having coffee. That’s back before any Starbuck’s and there was only one Peet’s in Berkeley. It was hard to get good coffee…

I think Jodie would be happy if he heard that. 🙂

At Jodie’s, one very early morning in July.

Jodie’s is located at 902 Masonic Avenue, Albany, CA 94706. (510) 526-1109. They’re open 8 am – 3 pm Wednesday through Friday and 8 am – 4 pm Saturday and Sunday. Visit Jodie’s website.

For a while I knew nothing about Japanese food, then within less than one year, I’ve found three places in Berkeley to satisfy my Japanese cravings. To get yakitori, guaranteed quality and to impress friends, I go to Ippuku. For a homey meal at affordable price and convenient distance, I swing by Musashi. For sushi and croquette, Sushi California tops the list.

Its name is generic and its location rather hidden, had Kristen not shared a Berkeleyside review on my Facebook wall some time ago, I would never have noticed Sushi California, much less tried (I tend to stay away from generic names because they often imply generic food). Then Kristen totally forgot about the place. One day I asked her “wanna try Sushi California?”
– What’s that?
– The place you posted on my wall…
– …

The biggest reason that I remembered Sushi California before going there was this line in Anna Mindess’ review: “Chef Arakaki admits that he used to offer other Okinawan classics like goya champura (sautéed bitter melon) but they did not sell well.” I love bitter melon, and even more than that, I love ethnic restaurants that try to offer regional specialties, which often go unnoticed by foreign customers and are eventually taken off the menu. (This is why it’s so hard to find decent traditional food in America, regardless of what cuisine you’re looking for.) So, in some way, I liked Sushi California even before I went. I didn’t hope to see bitter melon there now, but what was there was more than enough to keep me coming back.

Black seaweed salad ($4.45) – mozuku seaweed, cucumber, raw okra and lemon – Slimy okra isn’t my thing but this salad was so cold, so refreshing. Perfect summer food.

49’er roll ($9.95) – salmon and stuff. EXTREMELY refreshing. The lemon brightened up everything, the chewy salmon on top complemented the shrimp tempura inside. I was too busy inhaling it to notice any room for improvement, but I doubt there was any.

Karaage ($6.95) – a bit too oily and soggy

Hot sake and edamame

Hamachi nigiri – What I liked: no wasabi on the rice, the fish is buttery. What I slightly disliked: the fish is not chewy enough.

Okinawan soba ($9.95) – I was actually expecting the cold soba, but this version with pork belly, egg and kamaboko is nothing to complain about. As hearty as it looks.

Shishamo ($3.95) – grilled smelt, on the wet side, a few minutes longer on the grill would have been nice.

Kanpachi nigiri ($4.50) – Wonderful texture, but overall the taste pales in comparison to the aji. The aji was just too good.

Kurobuta sausage ($3.95) – black pig sausage

Manhattan roll ($8.95) – red tuna outside, tempura asparagus and mango inside – Tuna and mango don’t play well with each other though…

Wasabi tako ($4.25) – purely for the texture.

Aji nigiri ($4.95) – a seasonal special. This was the first time in months that I became vocal after taking a bite. I couldn’t contain myself, and immediately told chef Arakaki how good it was.

Anago nigiri ($4.95) – Salt-water eel. Another seasonal special. Again, I became vocal. Its deliciousness will linger in my head for another 20 years.

Purple sweet potato korokke ($3.95) – Slightly sweet, moist inside and crunchy outside, not milky, not too dry.

Finally, the PERFECT korokke. The size, the crunchiness, the moistness, the taste are all perfect. My love for these rivals Kristen’s love for Gregoire’s potato puffs, and that girl would sell you for Gregoire’s potato puffs if she could. 😉

Red bean and green tea ice cream ($3) – the standard fare.

On Friday, the homey atmosphere is warmed up with live music: first a guitar, then a cello accompaniment later into the night. I like to sit at the bar to watch the chefs slicing and shaping their sushi, and to see which dishes get ordered. The chefs were so focused that I dared not interrupt, and I was happily immersed in such atmosphere anyway. Sushi California was first opened in 1986. Chef Arakaki told Mindess that originally he intended to expand it into a chain of restaurants, but it didn’t happen. I’m glad it didn’t happen. Chains can never feel the same, and Berkeley would have lost its most memorable sushi joint.

Address: Sushi California
2033 Martin Luther King Jr. Way
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 548-0703

Juicy, tender duck packed with sweet-savory marinade, you know, the typical red roasted duck that you see hanging by the neck at cleanliness-questionable Chinese eateries in Chinatown. But in this case, we don’t see the hanging ducks, the restaurant is Thai, and at least from where we’re sitting, everything looks clean(*).

The noodle, too, is flavorful. The same sweet-savory vibe. Chewy and not soaking wet.

I was doing well until the last maybe 3-4 bites and I could feel the part under my diaphragm harden, like a water balloon. I can’t ask for a box for 3-4 bites, so I stuffed it in. To the very last noodle.

The nice thing about this restaurant: you can get roasted duck (or mock duck, which is made with seitan) with pretty much every dish. So my friend asked for Veggie Delight with roasted duck. I asked her if it was delightful, she said yes. 🙂

Address: Nara Thai Dining
18445 W Lake Houston Pkwy
Humble, TX 77346
(281) 812-0291
www.narathaidining.com

(*) The restroom is also clean and flavorful. Raspberry air freshener with black-raspberry-and-vanilla hand soap. As soon as we walked in, we could smell the overflowing raspberry. However, the floor of the hallway leading to the restroom is sticky, so I guess they only keep it clean where it matters?

Veggie Delight with roasted duck – $14.95

Tofu fried rice – $8.95

We were driving in San Francisco. A friend suddenly asks: “would you like to live in Berlin?”
– No.
– Why not?
– German food isn’t good.
– What about London?
– Same thing. British food isn’t good either.

Then my friend started chastising me about how I haven’t lived in those two cities to know, how they have wonderful restaurants of various cuisines, and how I should be open-minded to try new things. True. But for me, “London has many good restaurants of various cuisines” has nothing to do with “British food is good”. Another example. I like yakisoba, and I like some yakisoba in San Francisco, but that just means I would prefer any Japanese city to San Francisco in terms of yakisoba. In order to like a city, I have to like its culture, and its regional cuisine happens to be the least personal cultural thing that pops up in my mind.

Edit: with Cheryl’s comment below, I think I should clarify a few things here: there’s ethnic restaurant, and then there’s fusion restaurant, both types make up the culture of a city. So, in a sense (and in the future), a fusion Chinese restaurant in London is just as “authentic” as an ethnic Szechuan restaurant in London, because they both make up the authenticity of London, the vibe of a big city, but neither can ever be as “authentic” as a Szechuan restaurant in Chengdu. With the globalization in big cities, the lines blur quickly, every ethnic thing is blended into other ethnic things, every plate contains ingredients and flavor profiles adopted from everywhere around the globe. That’s the beauty of cuisines, they always grow, they adapt to their surroundings and incorporate their surroundings to spawn new cuisines. A one-minute search on Google maps returns a cocktail bar in Shoredictch that serves up tamarind and onion jam on flat bread, and a fine dining restaurant in Kreuzberg that incorporates langoustine with wasabi, Cantonese style (whatever that means). These are just two of numerous Asian-flavor-inspired restaurants that I would easily find in London and Berlin, that I would most likely enjoy, but if you ask me, do you like London food, I wouldn’t think of them. Because I don’t consider them London food.

In fact, I don’t know what to consider them. We want to make good food, that’s great. Good fusion food is good. It has its own beauty, and I’m not totally against it. But the fusion happens too fast and too much to become a cuisine and to last. That Cantonese style langoustine with wasabi is served at 1 restaurant, by 1 chef, and will unlikely last for more than a decade. No German will ever say it is a German dish, on the same caliber as sauerbraten. So instead of fusing things together, why can’t we improve regional cuisines using the same ingredients that people in the region have used for hundreds of years, but with better techniques and higher-quality ingredients? If the trend is to mix everything together, what will become of regional cuisines? I like that Asian flavors are gaining appreciation among the Western palates. I think it’s wonderful. But what’s even more wonderful would be the authentic dishes of each culture getting appreciated on their own, no mixing, no “influence”.

People tell me that my taste bud will change as I eat more fusion food. Yes, it does change, but not in the direction that they mean. The more fusion food I eat, the less I’m impressed by fusion, and the more I want “authenticity”. Nobody ever agrees on the definition of authenticity, it has too many factors: land, people, ingredients, techniques, etc. For me, sometimes I think of authentic food as “food with history”, sometimes “localness”, but mostly, I want something pure.

The restaurant is big, clean and convenient. It’s in Westfield San Francisco, a big chunk of the fourth floor of the shopping mall is restaurants, and M.Y. China is one of them. Sitting 50 feet from the kitchen and you can smell the intoxicating fumes of dumplings. We order two Chinese classics: xiao long bao (pork & crab juicy dumplings) and niu ro mien (beef hand-pulled egg noodle soup).

The niu ro mien is good. Fourteen dollars. Melting tender beef, chewy noodle (not as chewy as I would like, but I’m not a fan of egg noodle anyway), dark, flavor-packed broth (which gets a bit too salty after a while and sends you drinking water like mad).

The xiao long bao‘s are dry. Twelve dollars for five. There’s not enough broth in them. The dumpling skin is dried up on top, the carrot slice at the bottom, which supposedly helps preventing the dumpling from sticking to the spoon, disrupts the harmony in texture. The pork filling? This is where my friend and I disagree.

The filling has ginger. My friend insists that: 1. xiao long bao should have a lot of ginger (to mask the flavor of the pork); 2. she has eaten a lot of xiao long bao over the years to know that it should have a lot of ginger; 3. she doesn’t notice the ginger in these xiao long bao, in fact, she added extra ginger to the dumplings to make them taste gingery.

I insist that: 1. these xiao long bao are too gingery (the pork and the crab are completely masked); 2. even with the pre-equipped knowledge that xiao long bao are supposed to have a lot of ginger, I don’t like these xiao long bao because they have too much ginger.

Ice cream ($4 each) – toasted rice (left) and chinese walnut (right) – both remind me of grocery rice milk and walnut milk, which are sweeter than I would have liked.

Of course, the natural question comes up: should you review food based on your knowledge of the food (how it should be) or based on your taste of the food (how it is)? Food reviews have both objective facts and subjective preferences, and as a reviewer, I don’t mix those two categories together. If I know with all certainty how it should be, I’ll include that statement in my review, otherwise, all of my reviews are about how it is (with respect to my taste buds). Is that too subjective? Sure. Are my preferences peculiar? Maybe. I don’t drink coffee and alcoholic beverages, and I don’t eat spicy foods. In general, I don’t like anything too strong. If a dish has one overwhelming flavor that masks everything else, I call it “one-dimensional”. I want to taste different flavor profiles in a dish, especially the natural flavors of the ingredients, which is why I’ve grown increasingly fond of raw seafood sushi and increasingly intolerating of cakes. So if you like strong flavors, the things that I like would be almost water to you, and the things that I say are too this or too that would taste just fine. 🙂

But surely, there must be others who share my preferences?

Logistics: M.Y. China is a new restaurant by Martin Yan and the owners of Koi Palace. It opened early this year, and it locates on the 4th floor of Westfield San Francisco Center, 845 Market St, San Francisco, CA 94103 – (415) 580-3001

Kristen Sun

This is Kristen Sun, food blogger, researcher in comparative ethnic studies, and my partner in crime in a lot of fooding activities, including eating, kimchi-ing, and talking about food.

We tell people that we met in Korean class, which is true, but I believe the deciding moment was when she posted on Facebook that she went to Commis. We hadn’t talked much before then because we didn’t even sit near each other in class, but I felt compelled to ask her what she thought of the restaurant. She replied with a thorough, professional and perceptive analysis of the food, the service, the presentation, and how overall it didn’t live up to her expectation. That’s when I knew we’d become best friends. 🙂

Kristen’s expertise in food? You’ll find out soon when you read her posts. We focus on slightly different areas, but overall Kristen and I share not only similar taste in food and similar opinions on food culture, but also a tenacity to read and write about food (actually she’s even more dedicated than me). That’s why I have invited her onboard Flavor Boulevard, although she started her own food blog not too long ago, because, you know, a one-person blog is like a one-person home, a two-person blog has “love”. 😉 (Okay that sounds cheesy…)

Seriously, though, what we want to do with our food writing has evolved into something a little bit more than just foods, and this journey is best to do with friends.

So, my dear friends who have supported me until now, THANK YOU for all of your support, it means so much to us, and please welcome Kristen to Flavor Boulevard, and watch out for her sharp critique in the near future!! 😉

My junior year of high school was my first year ever in America, and I was still learning the rope of living here, high school dance among other things. A friend invited me to Homecoming. For the pre-dance dinner, he talked about going to a Vietnamese restaurant named Mai in Houston. I didn’t know exactly where it was or what it was (this was 2002, Google Maps and Yelp didn’t exist), but I thought that was considerate of him. In the end, we went to a steakhouse instead, I thought it was because Mai was a bit too far away, and I was left wondering what Mai was like.

A few years later, my host parents mentioned Mai again in passing conversation, and suggested we went together sometime. The place, dated back to 1978, is known as the very first Vietnamese restaurant in Houston, and pretty much every Houstonian knows at least its name. My parents and I were interested, but again, days passed and we forgot. One day in early 2010, news came that the restaurant had been destroyed by a fire. We sighed, somewhat regretful.

Luckily, it reopened. I forget how and when we came to know of its re-opening, but this summer, we decided that as Houstonians, it’s about time we should check this off the list.

As usual, my mom told me to order anything I want, and I did. But I overdid myself, and we struggled to finish a few plates fast enough to have room on the table for the next plate. It was a marathon. The portion was dinosaur-mongous. The three of us packed half of the food home.

APPETIZERS:

Fried shrimp with garlic butter sauce

This plate was the first to be move out of the way. Guess what I poured on my dress? The garlic butter sauce. I smelled “good” for the rest of the day.

Chao long – rice porridge with “dau chao quay” (youtiao) and pork offals.

Yes, this is an appetizer, although the bowl can probably fit me in it.

ENTREES:

Breaded fried catfish steaks – Crunchy and not too oily, but I wish they were not breaded and simply pan fried.

Canh chua – sour soup with fish, tomato, pineapple, okra and celery. So refreshing for the summer!

Banh hoi – thin rice noodle mesh with lemongrass grilled beef

This one is to be wrapped in rice paper, which my mom artfully put on her bowl like a mini table cloth (the first picture).

DESSERTS:

Green tea ice cream

Banana tapioca pudding

One of those extremely common desserts in Vietnam that you never see in American Vietnamese restaurants. This one is good (but I like my version better ^_^).

Mai’s menu has a lot of stuff, but nothing strayed from the usuals that you would see at any Vietnamese restaurant in town. Although few things jump out at me, anything that we ordered tastes exactly how we want them to. They make traditional Vietnamese food in the honest, straightforward traditional manner, with abundance to boost, which is also characteristic of Vietnamese food. Their home-styled comfort delivered, and we wouldn’t ask for anything better.

Mai’s Restaurant is at 3403 Milam Street, Houston, TX 77002 – (713) 520-5300