Flavor Boulevard

There are three free things the Bear Transit has to offer (when the buses do come): a ride to and from campus uphill (free for those with a UCB ID), a lively chat between the bus driver and his or her favorite passenger (feel free to eavesdrop – even if you don’t want to, you have to – they’re loud), and a tour around downtown Berkeley, also happened to be the part cluttered with everything from restaurants to food trucks (if you have a free eye to wander). This last offer led to my finding of Azerbaijan Cuisine.

Although Alborz was shy of making the list of ubercmuc’s favorites, I thought I should give Persian food another try. After a winter shower, Fulton Street was sparkly clean. The trees shed another layer of their bright foliage. The breeze was quirky but not too cold. It was the perfect weather for a hearty meal in a nice restaurant. Like Alborz, Azerbaijan Cuisine shows great effort in designing an attractive, spacious interior. Plain white light bounces off mahogany surfaces and crystal wine glass, giving a delicate coziness that makes you smile softly and talk with care. But unlike Alborz, Azerbaijan Cuisine gives you house-baked pita bread for appetizer. It’s unevenly crunchy, light and mildly sweet, promising a satisfactory affair.

To make sure that we would go home with at least one full tummy, Mudpie pulled the safe card and ordered a serving of ground beef kabob accompanied by saffron rice. The chargrilled tomato on the side was arguably the most flavorful item on the plate.

As usual I opted for the most obnoxiously meaty choice on the menu – the Koofteh tabrizi (full description: “jumbo lamb meatball stuffed with dried plum, barberries, boiled egg and fried onion in tomato broth served with fresh berbs and bread – 14.95”)

Whoever made this must have dreamed of eating dinosaur eggs. I probably should have expanded my cavity as much as the frog in La Fontaine’s fable had swollen hers in order to store this gargantuan loaf of fare. Although the colors were inviting, if you’re not into bland food, this wouldn’t cheer up your palates. It was the first time I ever had to use both the herbs and the salt shaker on the table in a restaurant, with much liberty, still I couldn’t help but relating myself to a cow savoring golden bales of hay. Persian folks, being landlocked, seem to have built an appetite for meat-rich, sodium-poor diet. A strong cardiovascular system they must have.

To end on good terms, the dessert menu looks quite interesting. Perhaps one day I’ll come back for the bastani and the palloodeh. Ice cream doesn’t need salt, does it?

Dinner for two: Koobideh (12.95) + Koofteh tabrizi (14.95) = $30.62

Address: Azerbaijan Cuisine (part of Eclipse Cafe)
2175A Allston Street (the corner of Allston and Fulton)
Berkeley, CA 94704
510-704-1718

Update on August 9, 2010: This place is closed.

After a pleasant Turkish dinner at Turquoise Grill in Houston last year, followed by countless shawarma lunches at a cheap cafe on Durant this semester, I figure I should venture eastward and attack Iran, with a fork. The first target is 5 blocks away: Alborz Restaurant.

Take a look at the old menu to get an idea, but there are more items on the real menu, and the actual price is roughly two times higher. Being carnivorous as I am, I couldn’t resist the sound of a lamb shank with baghali polo (green rice with dill and lima beans) (pictured above). Ignorant me, I didn’t know the lamb shank was so little. It’s just about the size of a big turkey leg. Slow cooked in a vegetable stew, it’s more tender than deep fried turkey (which I had for an early Thanksgiving dinner). According to the far-eastern tongue, the stew fell short by at least a teaspoon of sodium chloride and a tablespoon of sucrose, per lamb shank. The polo (basmati rice), however, tastes slightly salty. It makes a dish alone. Each grain is slender and bare, the miniscule fibrous texture is simply lovely.

Mudpie got the better dish of the two: chicken fesenjoon (chicken in pomegranate-walnut stew), also served with basmati rice. I should mention that on every table there’s a jar of filled with mysterious maroon sumac powder, that looks most like some kind of aromatic sand accompanying a Yankee candle, and tastes somewhat like the pomegranate sauce. (We asked the waiter, but we couldn’t understand his answer, so we just nodded to make him happy. We finally found its name online.) Pomegranates grow well in hot, desiccant climate, (the grocery stores here were flooded with them last summer during the drought), is that why it is the central condiment in the Middle East? It can be quite acrid, but in moderation the pomegranate sauce gives a tinkling delight. Come on, FritoLay, what are you waiting for? Make this flavor.

Summary:
Dinner for two: $35 (with tax and before tip). The interior bathes in cozy light and delicate atmosphere, with white table cloth and well-dressed customers. The pita bread for appetizer was plenty, but of low quality. 3.5 stars for presentation, 2 stars for food. We ended the night with a bratwurst to fill up the salt quota.

Address: (not to be confused with the one in Texas or the one in Del Mar)
Alborz Restaurant
2142 Center Street
Berkeley, CA 94704

There is this little ice cream store on College Avenue. Somehow everyone knows about it, and forms a line from the cashier inside all the way out to 30 feet of sidewalk from the door. On a Thursday night, at 9:30 sharp, an employee went out and stood at the end of the line, kindly preventing more customers from queuing up. We felt guilty sitting on the bench nibbling at our treats while people patiently hunched their neck into layers of scarves and collars, ignored the chilly wind, waited for their turn to get into the store. Life’s rough to some.

The menu changes daily to whatever the chefs’ hearts desire. That day’s popular affairs seem to be orange-almond-nutmeg and cardamom-rose, which we got. We also couldn’t resist those little crème-fraiche-Amarena-cherry-and-chocolate at the bottom shelf. (The innocent employee later revealed that those 5 cute things had sit idly there all day, and that he’s glad someone finally got one. Guess we did the chefs a favor.) The cherry flavor was oddly artificial. The chocolate shell was a major challenge for a plastic spoon. The best part was the chewy chocolate cake layer at the bottom. Perhaps it wasn’t quite worth $5.25, but sometimes it’s just cool to eat something with a fancy name.

Now, the fancy ice creams… Orange peel, nutmeg, and candied almond made a combination resembling Cinderella in her pumpkin carriage. It’s girly sweet, and peasantly genuine. It’s safe and natural. What about the cardamom-rose? It’s a cavalier’s hand-kiss, genteel and reserved. It tastes and feels like herbal tea, each spoon lifts you up a step of contentment. But like all good things, one scoop went fast.

2 “Kid’s scoops” (2@2.85): 5.70; Cone single: 0.75; Individual bombe: 5.25. Total: $11.70
(for comparison: Dinner for 2 at Berkel Berkel: $14.71)

Address: Ici
2948 College Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94705

The cold weather kicked in. When wind and rain hit your window panes, jackets start dominating your closet, and colorful scarves make their presence at every clothing store, what is the first thing in your mind? A cozy snug-up with a book, maybe dreamy smoke rising up from a mug of hot chocolate, or early Christmas shopping? Ever since a friend took me to this Korean dine-in, it has become the Call of the Wild Tummy on wintry days.

Telegraph avenue is a busy street. Tents set up on both sides with multitudes of youngster jewelries, flashy windows with vintage clothes, beggars with voice stronger than a football coach… But there is one wooden door that looks so humble it stood out amidst the restless noise.

I like Berkel Berkel because of its wooden doors, its dimly lit interior, its young customers gathering quietly around small tables, the unadorned facileness, and the affable host (dressed in white in the picture below). No matter how cold it is outside, once you’re in here, you’re warmed up by the familiarity. Wrapping my hands around a cup of oksusu cha, I felt at home.

The menu is simple and basic. Barbecue meat (bulgogi), rice with eggs and mixed veggies (bibimbap), soups; if my memory serves me right, everything comes with a choice of beef, pork, chicken, or vegetarian. I’ve only tried bulgogi and dolsot bibimbap here. (It was the first dolsot bibimbap I had since reading about it in Noodlepie. The other two Korean restaurants near campus don’t serve bibimbap in a sizzling stone bowl, a dolsot, hence deprive both the rice and the rice eater half the fun.)

Although I’m not a big fan of veggies, their beautiful assortment makes a dainty remark on my prejudice, and thankfully the pickled sourness and gochujang’s subtle triggering were anything but plain. Gochujang (chili paste), except for being crimson red and spicy, tastes a lot like the Vietnamese chao; naturally, since they are both made from aged fermented soybean paste, or tofu.

An all-mixed-up bowl looks like this. Spinach, bean sprout, carrots, cucumber, lettuce, egg, sesame oil, stir-fried beef, chili paste, my mouth is watering as I’m writing this. Korean spiciness goes with a piquant sourness, distinguishing itself from Mexican’s forward plainness, Thai’s fruity sweetness, or Indian’s peppery pungency.

Forget about manners, I made a tower consisting of a square of beef, a piece of baechu (Chinese cabbage) kimchi, and a slice of pickled cucumber on a spoonful of rice. Korean rice is noticeably moister than Vietnamese rice, so stuffing that monstrous pile into my mouth wasn’t too hard, the rice didn’t fall apart. The hand can only write of so many poetic remarks before the brain is flooded with images and tastes relived, too fast to be organized, so I will now simply list other good things here: excellent salad dressing, lingering corn tea, free unlimited banchan (kimchi, cucumber, and sweet black beans), and most importantly, student’s-pocket-friendly price (under $10/dish, confirmed by my students).

Address: Berkel Berkel
2428 Telegraph Ave, Berkeley, CA 94704

Also read: Second visit at Berkel Berkel

Note to self: next time grocery shopping, look for corn tea. Do they sell those at stores, though?

That time of the year has come. Time for the first midterm exam of the undergraduates, and the first exam-grading party of the graduate students. Time for looking back and asking what have I been doing since school started, beside avoiding my advisor for fear of his question “how is the research going?”. Time for kids to buy lanterns, if you’re in Vietnam, and for adults to return home, if you’re in Korea. Time for Walmart, Michael’s, Kroger and the gang to pull out a full display of Halloween and Thanksgiving colors. Time for Asian expats to savour their mooncakes.

It isn’t called “mooncake” for no reason. There’s a moon inside the cake. A bright deep yellow egg yolk, salted to perfection. I always eat this last, putting the whole ball in my mouth and slowly eroding it away. The background of the “moon” can be anything, from assorted nuts and lap cheong to sweetened bean paste. Kinh Do churned out the green tea version (nonexistent in Saigon when I was there 5 years ago). Talk about 2-in-1 convenience, now you don’t have to drink tea while eating mooncakes anymore.

Some prefer the crust to the ubersugary filling. I’m one of them. So they make the dough into shapes of little piglets. My officemate and I laughed so hard the other day when we found out that both the Singaporeans and the Vietnamese do that, although in different ways. Vietnamese people have the baby pigs surrounding a mommy pig, herself a big mooncake with all the stuffing and egg yolks inside. The Singaporeans make it easy for kids to take their piggy around:

I always find it hard to eat the piggy. It’s like eating a gummy bear, you know, should you decapitate him first, or attack from below?
Do other Asian countries have piggy mooncake too?

There is this McDonald’s pretty much right across the street from the old Physics building where I went to college. It made good business. College kids, tight pockets, tight schedule, empty stomach, of course. But good old days are no more. The Big M is nonexistent here, although all the above conditions still hold. The Physics building is inconveniently located in the middle of campus, which is at least 15 minutes strolling to the nearest food in any direction (on-campus diners don’t count). The shortest voyage if you’re facing south leads to the corner Durant-Bowditch. A yellow sign gently says “Le Cheval – Saigon Cuisine, Est. 1986”, with green vines, sunshine patio, and “cash only”.

The place is usually packed during lunch peak. (This picture was taken at 3 pm.) There are about a dozen dishes on the counter, you pay a fix price for a combo rice plate, and make your own. I haven’t tried those, because it would take more time than to order a bowl of pho. Actually I said “noodle soup”, and the white man at the cashier politely asked, in well-toned Vietnamese, “phở bò?” :-). I paid, poured myself a glass of water, sat down with a number. Two minutes later a guy, tray in hand, zigzagged from the back kitchen through numerous chairs and conversations. My pho was ready, snuggly next to the usual bountiful plate of bean sprouts and mints. I don’t recall my double cheeseburgers coming to me faster than that, especially when there are 50 customers around. Arguably, this phở is a more heart-warming encounter. What else would you expect from a big bowl with lotsa meat?

Speediness aside, Le Cheval has something else worth coming for: phở sans broth and all that steamy business. I haven’t seen this dish anywhere else. It appears under the name “stir-fried phở” on page 3 of the menu. It has the combined quality of pad thai and jap chae. A delicate yet enduring texture. It’s phở you can eat with a fork and ease. It’s phở you can take your time handling without making it disintegrate into the sea of broth. And take time you must, for it’s a big plate.

The veggies and shrimps are just makeup on a natural beauty, and probably for the health-conscious. The noodle is already savoury by itself.

Side note: the chopsticks here might be a little too short, and I always get loaded with guilt when putting my finished bowl (with broth) into the plastic bins for dirty dishes. Fatty liquid streaming out and coating the bowls isn’t a pretty sight. On the plus size, self-service saves you on tips, and all the more reason to order pho xao if you have time.

Address: Le Petit Cheval
2600 Bancroft Way (between Bowditch St and College Ave)
Berkeley, CA 94704
510-704-8018

They say in India you can buy a train ticket scheduled to leave within 2 hours, go back to the hotel, shower, take a nap, walk around, come back to the train station the next day, and it’s just in time for the train to arrive. I haven’t been to India to testify that story, but I’ve been at Berkeley, and rest assured, it is similar. Waiting for the city bus and the school bus here is good practice for patience. I used to check the time, calculate how many minutes I have to walk from home to the bus stop, how many minutes until the bus arrives, how many minutes until I’m officially late for class. I do none of those now. I’m a learned man. Waiting for the buses here is like waiting for a fickle lover to get ready, it can be 10 minutes, or 30 minutes, or never. Don’t blame it on bad traffic. There are no cows wandering among cars, and the goats are all seasoned and stewed. Yep, the goats are ready to serve at your favorite local Indian eatery.

It isn’t on the permanent menu, but on the white board near the cashier, not far from the sign “We accept credit, but we prefer payment in cash”. I prefer credit, but that’s not the norm at Berkeley.

They say this place is voted the best Indian restaurant in town. That must be good, because there just might be more Indian restaurants and Indian shops than Indian residents here at Berkeley. And by Indian they mean the combination of Indian, Pakistani, Sri Lankan, and others in South Asia. Food blurs the line of nationality and brings together customers people. So is this place actually that good? I’ve tried food from curry land before, manufactured, home cooked, and restaurant made, and they didn’t have that kick to make me searching for more. But when friends suggest, you ought to comply. And when friends say goat biryani is spicy, you ought to listen. The first few spoons are defying. Supertender goat, sweet dates, inviting colors. I went on, my eyes shed tears. Maybe I’m just lame, maybe the house biryanis are crushed bits of burning coal, who knows.

Compared to the goat biryani, the chicken tikka masala (pictured) is heaven’s candy land. The sauce is coconuty and soothing, making the best dip for the best naan. I don’t know if all their dishes are the best in town, but I’m sure no naan can beat this naan. It’s so good it made me buy naan at the grocery’s only to my disappointment at the difference. The basmati rice is also cooked to excellence of sweet simplicity. If I come back, I will just order a bunch of naan and rice, they’re only a dollar each. They’re the kicks I’ve been looking for.

Biryani House
2011 Shattuck Ave, Berkeley, CA 94704
Price: 2 chicken tikka masala + 1 naan + 1 rice = $15.37

We came back, and it was new. The menu is a laminated extensive list. The construction was finished. The booths are filled. The space was lushed with soothing 80’s music. The dishes were brought out one after another all too quickly.

Appetizer 1: tôm chiên cốm (fried shrimp coated with crispy green rice, pictured above). Little seasoning is added, the flavor relies on the shrimps’ freshness and the cốm‘s natural confection. Pure novelty. The shrimps come in flock of five.

Appetizer 2: mango salad. Here’s my guess: a squirt of lemon, a pinch of sugar, a half-ripe mango (to keep the crunchy but not so much the sour), a pinch of sesame seeds for colors, and again, five rosy boiled shrimps for protein. It’s refreshmunchtastic.

Entree 1: bò lúc lắc (shaken beef). I don’t know who came up with the name “shaken beef”. It’s translated all too literally, or were the beef chunks trembled with fear? I’d feel pretty shook up too if I were brined, pierced with a skewer, and turned side to side like crazy on a hot grill. Great meat, flavorful onion and bell pepper. The red rice looks inviting but resides on the plain side, as gac gives only color but little taste.

Entree 2: bò cuộn tôm nướng (grilled beef-rolled shrimp). Don’t you just love how the chargrilled red meat and seafood are balanced with pickled carrots and daikon, cucumber, tomatoes, and a cup of fluffy white rice sitting neatly on two curly lettuce leaves? A little bit of crushed peanuts and chopped scallions for boost, although the beef rolls are quite brackish themselves. Notice there are 5 shrimps.

Entree 3: bò lá lốt (grilled ground beef wrapped in lolot leaves). Instead of using grape leaves like the Persians, the Laotians and the Vietnamese wrap their meat in the tangy, somewhat bitter lolot leaves. Like champagne, it might not taste amazing to an objective thinker, but it’s popular. Something that a good authentic Vietnamese restaurant has for the ones in need of a reminder of a taste at home.

Enjoy our lunch we did. A good looking restaurant with tender price.

Address: Lemon Grass Vietnamese & French Cuisine
1143 Story Road, San Jose, CA 95122

Recall: First time at Lemon Grass

It’s a little hard to tell what the name of this place really is. Yelp says “Da Nang Krungthep Thai Cuisine”. Their little receipt says “Muang Thai Restaurant”. Chowhound disagrees. I’ll go with the name they have on the yellow sign in front. But one thing I do know is it’s busy, even on a drizzly Berkeley Sunday afternoon, and all for a good reason: its good taste.

The good taste extends beyond the food. As Mudpie put it, the interior is “well spaced”. Tables aren’t too closed together to make us talking uncomfortably for fear that the next table could hear. Nice real (not fake) flowers, mini bamboos on the room divider, wooden stools near the window for lone diners.

The middle-aged host brought us our orders with a genuine smile and a friendly warning: it’s spicy, so add this chili sauce only if you like really spicy food. We sure took his advice. The kao pad namh (fried rice with sausage and kai-lan), despite its innocent look and without the sauce, burns.

It’s good though. It’s the kind of tongue-torching well-toned with sweetness. It’s comforting on a rainy day. But what’s even more comforting for the mouth is the tender touch of Ka Moo a la carte. The stewed pork leg.

I bet the plate of meat came from 3-4 pork legs. The less refined name would be “pig feet,” which usually raises an eyebrow or two, or worse, ignites “ew” and “gross” out of Americans. Fine by me, food is like painting, not everyone sees the value until someone puts a very high price on it. And I want my bank account to enjoy the pig feet too, so let’s keep it unpopular. The meat is stewed until it’s so tender you don’t need to chew. The flavors resemble beef slices in pho, juicy, mild, and palatable. They serve it with white rice here, but I think bread would make a tasty companion too.

Lunch for two and leftover: $19.65 before tip. Take a look at the menu here.

A note to self: the exterior (lack of) decorations might be a facade, and shady neighborhoods can turn out to be the best place to find good food. Although, it’s something my mom, who considers look and cleanliness are a crucial part of the taste, would never agree with.

Da Nang Krungthep Vietnamese-Thai cuisine
905 San Pablo Ave.
Albany, CA 94706
(510) 524-6837

You know how school kids don’t get tired of peanut butter sandwich even if they eat it every day for lunch? Well, every time I catch the BART down to Fremont, it’s hard to pass up the chance to stop by Huong Lan Sandwich in Milpitas for a fresh crusty loaf, or many of those banh mi’s – a week’s supply for lunch.

When in California, be liberal. The store has diversity. Above is packages of bánh bèo (white) and most likely bánh bột lọc (leaf-wrapped). Many kinds of cookies, crackers, shrimp chips, and other snacks unknown to ubercmuc. Below is the real goodies: nice warm bánh bao (steamed pork bun), bánh cốm (the bright green flat thing), bánh giò (leaf-wrapped pyramid), and mini bánh chưng (the squares).

Here’s the square unwrapped and cut in four. The pork is fatty, which is not quite right, but nonetheless it’s well done. So the story goes as follows: in a competition among the princes in ancient Vietnam, the king asked all the princes to find an exceptionally good food. The youngest prince, having no money and little power, couldn’t afford fancy stuff like ginseng and who knows what in the woods, so with the advice of a god in his dream, he took sticky rice, meat, and mung bean to make a bánh, wrapped in lá dong (Phrynium placentarium), and boiled for hours. The bánh is a green square, symbolizing the square Earth, pork – the animal, and mung bean – the plants. So I suppose fatty or lean pork doesn’t really matter to the story. After all, we have some really chubby animal, not just skinny ones. Mung bean seems to be Vietnamese’s favorite legume, just like red bean is to the Japanese. Perhaps because it’s good as a paste (in both sweet and savory bánh), a powder (on xôi), whole beans (in sweet deserts like chè), and as an ice cream flavor.

Don’t let size tricks you. Half of this mini bánh chưng definitely made a filling breakfast, the whole thing would be too filling. And if you’re too full you wouldn’t be able to eat a nice crusty bánh mì for lunch… uhm hmm…

Look at all that pickled carrots and radish. It’s a balanced meal. I usually get bánh mì thịt nướng (grilled pork), but that is proven quality, so this time gà nướng (grilled chicken) is up for test. I should stress that no matter what the filling is, a banh mi can never go wrong. You can put just soy sauce and a banana in it, and it would still be yummy. Something about the crusty, flaky bread that makes everything better. Back to the chicken. Well, it’s not dark meat, and it’d take some serious brining to make white meat flavorful. So let’s put it gently, I’ll be loyal to grilled pork.

Hương Lan must be a chain, or it’s just a name sandwich-makers like. They’re everywhere in this area, but I believe every store has a different touch to it. Here they put peanuts and nước mắm in the grilled pork bánh mì. The more flavors the merrier. Address: 41 Serra Way #108, Milpitas.

Oh, the end of the story is, the youngest prince, proved to be the wisest, was chosen for the crown. 🙂