Flavor Boulevard

Hokkaido butter corn miso ramen with smoked king salmon, pork belly, soy-marinated egg, snap peas, chrysanthemum greens, and shiitake. ($16)

Okay so, The Ramen Shop is not a place I would go alone. I think eating there alone would be particularly wonderful because ramen is the type of food to be eaten alone, and although the lighting might be too low for reading, it’s hard to read while slurping noodles anyway. BUT, the wait is just too horrible. This place has been hyped up since its opening in January, and it stays hyped. No sensical lone diner should wait an hour for a bowl of ramen.

It’s good ramen, though. I didn’t expect too much, and I was satisfied.

The broth was rich, although not hot enough (maybe I remember more than I should from the movie Tampopo, but they say the ramen broth should be boiling hot when arriving at the table). By American standard though, this is fine. I like that they keep the menu simple: 3 kinds of ramen – shio ramen with manila clams, veggie shoyu ramen with mushroom and salt-cured egg (yeah, ramen ain’t no place for vegan 🙁 ), and miso ramen with salmon. The only complaint: why no simple ramen with just pork belly? I understand that you want to make the $15 price tag seems more reasonable by adding some extra stuff, but the salmon really doesn’t belong.

Black sesame ice cream sandwich ($6) – The ice cream part is okay, but I’m not a fan of the sugar cookie.

The Ramen Shop is at 5812 College Avenue, Oakland, CA 94618 – (510)788-6370.

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

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

Good ol’ tomato and crab noodle soup from Southern Vietnam: bún riêu (pronounced |boon rhee-oo|). The broth looks alarmingly spicy but this soup is actually never spicy. The orange red color comes from tomato and annatto seeds, and if you’re lucky, crab roe (if fresh crabs are used for the soup).

The sweetness of the broth comes from freshwater paddy crabs, where the whole crab (meat and shell) is ground to a paste and strained for the juice. It’s a delicate, distinctive sweetness that can’t be reproduced with dashi no moto, meat bones or mushroom. To deepen the flavor, the cook adds some mắm ruốc, fermented krill paste, to the broth.

Traditionally, bun rieu has crab meat and tofu for the protein part, but bun rieu at Ba Le Sandwich is ladened with cha lua, pork and shrimp.

Traditionally, it’s one of those commoner’s noodle soups that every other street stall sells in Vietnam, nutritious, filling, unrefined, a richness of everyday life and earthy pleasures. Somehow I grew up not thinking much of it and was never impressed by it. In the bustle of North Cali, bun rieu is still nothing more than a commoner’s noodle soup, never elevated to the level of party food, but the more I think about it, the more I find it romantic. In one bowl, I was tasting the unctuous harmony of wetland and freshwater, of simple vegetables and grains and crustaceans that grow up together in one environment and end up together in one pot, or at least that’s how the noodle soup was originally designed. Do things taste best in the company of what they grow up with? I’m inclined to think so.

Back to a matter-of-fact viewpoint, the inside of Ba Le Sandwich in East Oakland, has been renovated earlier this year into a neat little diner enough to sit 12-14 people, since most customers come for to-go banh mi and on-the-counter goodies such as mungbean milk and sesame beignet. They have hand down the best banh mi in the East Bay north, but everything else tastes good because they know how to season things.

Address: Banh Mi Ba Le (Ba Le Sandwich)
1909 International Blvd
Oakland, CA 94606
(510) 261-9800

One bowl of delta romanticism: $6.50. Another awesome thing about this place: they open at 6:30 am.

Banh cuon – steamed rice rolls stuffed with pork and mushroom (the white things), and accessories.

Banh canh – It’s supposed to be tapioca noodle soup with short fat noodle made from tapioca and rice flour, but Ba Le uses Japanese udon instead. The broth is kept original, though.

Like many small businesses in the so-called “Little Saigon”s throughout the states, Hai Ky Mi Gia is operated by Chinese immigrants. Originally, Hai Ky Mi Gia is a popular noodle soup joint in District 5, Saigon – the Chinatown of Saigon – before 1975, and it remains popular today. When Saigon fell, the Chinese immigrants in Vietnam left the country with the Vietnamese and became associated with Vietnamese political refugees in foreign lands such as America. These Chinese Vietnamese immigrants continue speaking both languages, opening businesses under the established names(*) in Saigon and catering to the homesick Chinese Vietnamese and Vietnamese alike. Whether this Hai Ky Mi Gia is in any way related to the Hai Ky Mi Gia in District 5 or other Hai Ky Mi Gia’s scattering across the US, its patronage doesn’t seem to care either way. To the Chinese Vietnamese and Vietnamese immigrants, it’s a name they’re familiar with, so they feel at home. To the rest of the patronage… well, I can’t speak from their point of view, but I guess the low price and the popularity raved by Yelp, InsideScoop SF, SF Chronicle, SF Weekly, etc., do have an effect.

Does its food live up to the expectation that these websites have built for it? I’m afraid not, but then again, I would be very surprised if those reviews are ever different from your online zodiac personality description: nothing bad is described.

Do I feel like a jerk for pointing this out? Yes, especially since this place IS popular, my dining companions enjoyed it, the other customers enjoyed it (to some extent, otherwise they wouldn’t come back), and it’s really not the restaurant’s fault that they get hyped up. Noodle soup is comfort food, so it’s meant to be popular. If it’s any consolation, I think of this type of restaurant as the Asian version of McDonalds, or burgers in general.

Because I believe in saving the best for last, I start with what I don’t like.

Braised duck leg noodle soup with wonton ($7.59) – #4 on the menu
Score: 12/30

Like a McDonald’s burger, the braised duck in Hai Ky Mi Gia’s popular choice “braised duck leg noodle soup” has a distinctive smell. The swampy smell of duck. My mom has told me for as long as I can remember that although ducks bathe often, they have a strong smell, possibly from the preening oil that they spread on their feathers. This smell would go away with enough washing before the duck is cooked. There are several possible reasons that this smell was particularly prominent to me and didn’t seem to bother anyone else:

1. Only my piece of duck happened to be washed less or kept out longer than the other pieces of duck.
2. My olfactory system has become more sensitive as a result of studying tea.
3. Everyone else doctors up their soup with jalapenos, chili paste, soy sauce, hoisin sauce. (The jalapenos at the tables are very green, very fresh, and very strong.) I believe in experiencing the true taste of the soup as the chef makes it.
4. Everyone else is used to this smell because they’re used to eating this noodle soup at this noodle joint.

Whatever the reason, I grade my food based on smell, taste and texture. For this duck leg noodle soup with wonton, 0 for smell, 5/10 for taste, and 7/10 for texture.

But Hai Ky Mi Gia is not all disappointment. They serve big portions. Their warm homemade soymilk ($2.30) tastes of real soy, rich and soothing (better than store-bought cartons, of course). The seafood noodle soup, which we ordered with thin rice noodle, has a light, mildly sweet broth and enough fish balls, fish cake, squid and shrimp to entertain the diner. The dry noodle with broth on the side makes up for its less-than-deal cousin (the duck noodle soup) mainly because of its well-seasoned, tender charsiu pork.

Seafood noodle soup ($7.36) – #13 on the menu
Score: 5 for smell + 6 for taste + 7 for texture = 18/30

Dry wheat noodle with pork (charsiu pork, ground pork, boiled pork) and broth on the side – Not on the menu but you can order by asking the hostess.
Score: 5 for smell + 7 for taste + 7 for texture = 19/30

For out-of-town guests, I wouldn’t recommend this place, but the Hua family who opened this Hai Ky Mi Gia did not open it to attract tourists anyway. It’s meant to serve affordable comfort food with no frills, and I found comfort at least in its soymilk, so the restaurant fulfills its purpose.

Address: Hai Ky Mi Gia
707 Ellis Street (in the Tenderloin)
San Francisco, CA 94109
(415) 771-2577
Closed on Wednesdays. Cash only.

(*) If a restaurant/bakery/cafe/any food establishment has “Ky” or “Ki” in its name, it is 100% run by a Chinese immigrant who lived in Vietnam. “Ky” or “Ki” (pronounced |kee|) is the vietnamization of 計 (as in “生計” – |Sheng Kee|, which means “measure”, “plan”, “calculation”, etc).

It was 1 AM Wednesday night when I saw the text message from Chris, “hey Mai, do you expect you’ll have another review ready by tomorrow?” “Yeah I think so.” “Oh good. When can you have it in? It’ll have to be sort of early if we want to get it in Friday’s paper.” Chris is the editor of Eating Berkeley, and all of my publications with them so far are online, so it’d be pretty exciting to see my name in print. The problem: it was 1 AM and I had to finish a few scripts for my research the next day. The good thing: I just had dinner at Burma Superstar (the Oakland one) earlier that evening, followed by a LOT of puer, so my eyes were opening as wide as the Pacific Ocean and ready for no sleep. I started typing away about Burma Superstar.

This morning I picked up a copy of the Daily Cal at the bus stop. It IS good to see my piece in print, although it’s on a B&W page and I don’t feel like they chose the best photo there. Later in the day I checked the online section, where it’s also published. Below is what I wrote:

A full bar and a wildly successful sister establishment in San Francisco could be the reason for the huge line outside Burma Superstar in Oakland’s Temescal District on a Wednesday night. But for me, the restaurant’s main draw is its fresh coconut, for which they charge a whopping $5. It brings back childhood flavors from the tropics, though, and that justifies everything.

It wasn’t a young coconut, and I didn’t expect it to be given that we can’t grow coconuts in most of this country. But this middle-aged coconut had such rich water and a sweet fragrant from the husk that I thought I was drinking sugar cane juice, so it was doubly nostalgic. The rest of my meal at Burma Superstar followed smoothly through every sip of that coconut water.

Burmese food is a cross between Chinese, Thai and Indian cuisines, with some dishes showing the influence of one culture more than the others. For example, the curry pork with potato has a strong Indian touch of cumin and shines with chili oil like Szechuan mapo tofu, but it isn’t sweetened by coconut milk like other Southeast Asian curries. Thus, its perfect match is the sweetened coconut rice topped with fried shallots. In fact, the coconut rice is so fluffy and flavorful that it stands well on its own and it enhances everything. In hindsight, the curry pork was the weakest link in the meal for several reasons. The description said that there was pickled mango, but we detected neither mango nor pickle. It had too little potato and too much pork, and the big chunks of pork could have used some more cooking time or fared better in smaller pieces to reduce the fibrousness of the cut.

But whatever slight disappointment we had with the curry was quickly drowned in the dense, confident garlic and chili sauce of the sauteed eggplant. The shrimp served their purpose of keeping the name of the dish not so simple as “sauteed eggplant”, but they were hardly noticeable next to the perfect eggplant — tender but not mushy, and firm but not rubbery. The nan gyi dok was a pleasant surprise. I expected thin rice noodle like in pho, served warm, but Burmese rice noodle is thick, smooth and so fragile. It was also served cold as a noodle salad with fried shallots, boiled egg, cilantro, chickpea flour and coconut chicken curry, tossed together at the table after a squeeze of fresh lemon.

As if to reward the customers for the long wait, the kitchen turns out dishes very quickly and in big enough portions that my friend and I had to ask for three to-go boxes at the end. However, that did not deter us from dessert. We hurriedly drank up the coconut water and asked the server to chop off the tops so that we could scrape off the coconut meat inside, a joy I hadn’t had for years. Meanwhile, we ordered another nostalgic comfort food — warm black rice pudding with coconut ice cream. Well, sliced almond isn’t exactly authentic Southeast Asian, but its toasty crunch earns it a home with the creamy ice cream and the gooey rice.

In the end, I wouldn’t say that Burma Superstar shines as bright as its name suggests, but the food was just as pleasant as the staff. We were full and happy when we walked out, a little slowly so not to burst. Our jackets also smelled like sauteed onion for the rest of the night, but that’s never a bad thing.

EDIT: to adhere to the Daily Cal policy, I’ve removed the quote of the commenter on Eating Berkeley. This post is not a respond to the commenter, but a reflection on my style.

When I reread my review though, I realize the depth of reviewing ethnic restaurants that I should explore. It’s not as simple as saying whether a dish is good or bad because each dish has a complex culture behind it. That makes reviewing ethnic restaurants more challenging but more enjoyable. Burma Superstar was only my second time trying Burmese cuisine, and the first time barely left any impression. Of course, my review needs a lot more research if I was reviewing Burmese cuisine as a whole, but for now, as a single restaurant review, did I do it justice?

Curry pork with potato ($13.95) – description on menu: “specialty curry cooked with pickled mango, potatoes and tender pork”. I think I’ve said enough about this pork in my review…

Nan gyi dok ($9.95) – Burmese rice noodle salad with coconut chicken curry, boiled egg, fried shallots, cilantro, onion, chickpea flour and lemon juice. Complex in flavors and satisfying.

Eggplant and shrimp in garlic sauce ($13.95) – well, it’s eggplant and shrimp in garlic sauce. We asked for mild, so although there was chili in the sauce, it was actually mild. Really good. The shrimp doesn’t need to be there, though.

Black rice pudding with coconut ice cream and sliced almond ($9) – Worth the money. Besides, I always LOVE coconut ice cream.

Been one measly week since I got back to the West Coast, and my stomach is already shifting in discomfort with the regular irregular dining pattern of a student, or perhaps of just someone living alone.

At home, on weekdays, we have dinner at 5 while watching TV. For lunch there are banh bao that Mom made, each as big as a small fist with a pork ball and a half an egg inside, refrigerated. I just need to microwave it for 1 minute. On Saturday or Sunday, I’m in charge of choosing a restaurant for lunch, preferably somewhere near Bellaire, where Mom buys a couple of banh gio, which I can also have for lunch during the week, and a pound of cha lua. For dinner, usually something small, since we are already too full from lunch. This time home, my favorite dinner has been toasted french bread with pâté and cha lua. (Mom tucked 2 cans of pâté into my backpack before the flight. Airport security didn’t like the look of them on screen so they had to do a bag check. The lady asked me, “what is this?” I said, “pâté”. “What is it?” “Pâté…” Her quizzical look… “Um… you know… like… a paste?” “When you open it, is it liquid or a chunk?” “It’s a chunk” – well, this is liver pâté, it’s not exactly a chunk, but I know what answer would give me my pâté in tact – “Ok… cuz if it’s like guacamole then we can’t let it pass…” “No no it’s not like guacamole.” I got to keep my cans. I’m still not entirely sure if pâté is like guacamole.)

Anyway, the meals at home…

It goes without saying that the meals at “home” home were Vietnamese. Rice, rice paper rolls with slow-cooked pork and pickles, mung bean xoi with sesame mix, pho, mi Quang, homemade jam from fruits in the garden. But when we went out, somehow it all turned to Japanese(*). Hibachi in Port Arthur, shabu on Christmas Eve, and sort-of-izakaya on the Sunday before I flew out because Red Lantern, a Vietnamese restaurant downtown, closes on Sundays. (I don’t understand restaurants that close on Sundays.)

At Shabu House, we asked for desserts. The girl pulled out a pot from under the bar counter where we sat, a fading aluminum pot that looks like something you would see grandma uses to boil eggs. She ladled a soupy mung-bean-and-rice pudding into three bowls.

– Oh? Is this Japanese?! We have something just like this too.
*Smile*
– No, it’s Taiwanese…
– Oh… are you… Taiwanese?
– No, I’m Korean. *grin*

The dessert was too bland in Mom’s and Dad’s standard. Actually, yeah, it was bland, maybe 10 sugar grains per bowl or something. But I thought it was the perfect cooling end to a hot pot lunch. I also like that pot. So homey.

Or maybe it’s just because I was eating with my parents that I was more forgiving of the food. Company matters. 😉

(*) Ach no, I lied. There was one Korean lunch. The mandu was too oily, the grilled fish too charred, the seafood jeongol too spicy. But there was one very good thing about Seoul House: the banchan cart next to the wall where you can get as much and whatever kind of kimchi and other side dishes as you want. And I like their sweet soy sauce potato (gamja jorim). In fact, I like all gamja jorim. 😉

Addresses:
Shabu House
9889 Bellaire Blvd
Houston, TX 77036
(713) 995-5428
Lunch for three with dessert: $33.51

Seoul House
10603 Bellaire #107
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 575-8077
Lunch for three: $51.80

Happy New Year from Port Arthur, TX. 🙂 Just when I thought El Sombrero Taqueria in Berkeley was interesting for combining Mexican, Indian and Pakistani food under one roof (not in one dish, thank goodness), or I Squared in Oakland for Italian and Iranian, we stumbled onto a Japanese restaurant that also dishes out Chinese, Thai, Indian, and Indonesian.

The lady who greeted us at the door is South Asian, probably Indian, but I can’t tell the difference between the Indian accent and those from the surrounding countries. We were seated as far as possible from the sushi bar and the kitchen, so we couldn’t tell who did the cooking, and our waitress was American. Instead of miso soup to wet our appetite, we were given a stock that tasted similar to hu tieu broth. We were asked if we would prefer normal edamame or spicy edamame. The vegetable that came with the shrimp teriyaki and the grilled steak were mixed baby corn-carrot-bell pepper-snap pea in a stir fry sauce, something that you would find at any Asian diner that gives you the option of 2 sides with a scoop of rice for seven fifty. And the rice that came with the shrimp teriyaki and the steak were Chinese fried rice. Not the most Japanese you can get on this side of the pond.

But it sure did surprise me that even in this town of little more than fifty thousand people, three hours driving eastward from the nearest big Asian community, you can get a taste of ayam kalasan and beef rendang.

Closewise from top left: Ichiban Cajun roll (tempura shrimp, avocado, spicy mayonnaise and unagi sauce) and edamame, soup, shrimp teriyaki, beef rendang, hibachi grilled steak

There were a fair amount of Japanese dishes on the menu (salmon teriyaki, unagi don, soba…) plus the real sushi (nigiri) that we’ll try the next time we visit the Buddhist temple in Port Arthur. They may not be Japanese enough, but what we got were tasty enough.

Maybe not the mochi ice cream, though. But we didn’t tell the southerner-sweet waitress that, she was just too sweet. 🙂

Address: Ichiban Hibachi & Sushi Bar
3437 N Twin City Hwy
Port Arthur, TX 77642
(409) 962-7300
Lunch for three: ~ $60

Gyuu tan – sliced and grilled beef tongue, brightened up with a touch of lemon and raw daikon.

So I was going to write a really scathing review on this Joshu-Ya Brasserie place in Berkeley, but midway through the draft I went to Yelp to read my friend Kristen’s review for that same dinner by which we were both gravely disappointed. Not only is her review already detailed and scathing enough, but she’s also been to Joshu-Ya several times. Me? I don’t give restaurants second chances, even first chances are rare. So I figured no way I’d know and write about Joshu-Ya better than Kristen. Also as we immerse in this holiday spirit and on our way to a brand new year, I’d rather be all cheery about a restaurant that I love. 😉 It’s so close to me yet so secluded from the flock of eateries downtown that I hadn’t tried it until last month. Tried it once, then I went nuts and suggested Musashi the izakaya(*) to myself and everyone every time somebody says Japanese. Beware though, this is one of those places that you need to go with someone in the know to get the real things. There’s no fake thing per se (well truth be told I’ve only been here with someone in the know), but the real things will make you that much happier blowing your wad. Even better, your wad gets blown a lot less here than at other izakayas in the block: Musashi is cheap.

What are the real things? Please, no California rolls. (**)

Eggplant tossed with sesame and sweet soy sauce (goma ae). Healthy, no frills, and strangely addictive.

A fresh start is the 3-piece nigiri sampler (salmon, tuna and hamachi), but Musashi first blew me away with their simple green beans tossed with sesame, miso and sweet soy sauce (さやいんげんのごまあえ|saya ingen no goma ae|?). A similar eggplant dish started the next dinner we had there, good but I’m no eggplant fan. Of course we have no say in the free side dish, but if the stars all line up right you might just get the green bean. 😉

They have all of the common izakaya food like karaage (fried chicken), sunagimo (chicken gizzard, mmmmm), teba (chicken wing) and every other chicken thing, but my staple go-to has been the gyuu tan: a heap of sliced beef tongue, so lightly grilled that it doesn’t turn rubber, for a measly $6! (UPDATE: Musashi has the BEST gyutan in Berkeley!)

Hamachi nigiri – fresh and chewy as I like it

Clockwise from left: mune (chicken breast), tsukune (chicken meat ball) and karaage (fried chicken).

Although it’s possible to fill up on the skewers (I’ve done that at, of all places, Ippuku), it’s more economical and less confusing to fill up on something with rice. The nice thing about Musashi is they often have these few-day specials with ridiculous discount, such as this bowl of curry rice for $6 topped with a tonkatsu for another $1. The first time I had Japanese curry at a Korean-owned Japanese restaurant I was bored out of my mind, but Musashi’s sweet, slightly peppery curry works for me, with some tsukemono (pickled things). Unaju (rice with unagi) would also make a perfect choice any day.

That said, you can order all of these things without knowing Japanese, because they’re on the menu. The real deal isn’t, but somehow your Japanese friend knows it exist and asks the hostess, she nods welcomingly “hai! hai!” and you just enjoy the ride.

For example, buri daikon – fatty hamachi (yellowtail) and daikon simmered in soy sauce and mirin ($8.50), or  saba no misoni – saba (makerel) simmered in miso sauce, which, to my surprise, tastes almost identical to the Vietnamese cá kho despite the different ingredients. The sauces are watery and great over rice. If you’re afraid of (fish) bones like me, then ask her for buta no kakuni (braised pork belly), same concept.

Finish with black sesame ice cream.

One Monday evening I planned to meet a friend here, only to find out that they’re closed on Sunday and Monday. I was very sad.

Address: Musashi Japanese Restaurant
2126 Dwight Way
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 843-2017
www.musashiofberkeley.com

(*) There’s Musashi (宮本 武蔵) the famous samurai whose life stories inspired several works of fiction, such as the historical manga Vagabond by Takehiko Inoue. It’s bloody bloody, and bloody sad, nonetheless I’m at volume 34.

(**) I know. These American rolls can be good, and the place to get them would be Anzu.