Flavor Boulevard

Not so long ago, I got chuckled at for not having tried every single restaurant in my vicinity. There are excuses I could make, but the bitter truth is I’m lazy. At school, I try to arrange my schedule to minimize the distance between buildings. I tend to eat at places either really nearby or a bus ride away. The things in between require walking. I can walk. I don’t mind eating alone. I love wandering into a restaurant unplanned. But when I wake up at 8 on Sunday, I don’t think “oh feet, let us take a stroll six blocks uphill to have lunch at who knows where”. I stay in, (try to) work, and blog. I would never have discovered Kiraku without Teppei-san: a number of us gathered there for a farewell dinner before he and Roland took off to Korea.

This izakaya kind of thing is more enjoyable with more people. It means more dishes. All in little bitty plates. With seven of them, we covered most bases, from tsumami (starter) to shushoku after the beer and shochu.

We also covered the immobiles (vegetables), the legless (octopus), the two-legged (chicken), and the four-legged (pork). Now that’s a balance meal. 😀 Jonathan’s all-time favorite (the only thing that he remembered getting from last time) was the takowasabi, chopped octopus marinated with a rather gentle wasabi sauce, which simply looked slimy and tasted clean. Similar bits of octopus later showed up in the yaki udon, with katsuobushi on a basil pesto twist.

The chicken karaage (fried chicken) and the Kiraku ribs (pork spareribs with orange marmalade) settled the rumbly tummy splendidly. But my heart felt for the tomorokoshi no kakiage (corn fritters sprinkled with green tea salt) and the omelet salad served midway through the night. Its load of shredded cabbage , crunchy and pristine, freshened up the palates to welcome the occasional chunks of pork belly. Let me get some cereal real quick, I’m hungry writing about this thing.

Towards the end, my tongue only remembered the crackling sweetness of the renkon chipusu (lotus root chips) moderately coated in celery salt. Though Teppei warned me that izakayas are more enjoyable for drinkers (and rightfully so, seeing their forty-some choices of sake, shochu, chuhai, and beer), I had plenty of fun downing my ramune and trying to get the marble out at the end. Kiraku is no tabehodai (“all you can eat”), it’s pricey for how little food we got, but so what, it’s as cute as a button. 🙂

Address: Kiraku
2566B Telegraph Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 848-2758

Recently, someone asked me how often I cook, I said not often at all, I spend most of my time at school trying either to speak some foreign language or to tell the computer to understand my version of its language. I cook maybe once a week, very simple stuff, like boiled bok choy. He then questioned the credibility of my taste. “Can you taste as well as someone who cooks a lot?” I believe so. I might not have the knowledge to make the dish or to fix its shortcomings, but fermenting the grapes doesn’t help an oenophile judge his wine. However, that got me thinking about what I would do if I had time to cook. I would like to work in a restaurant kitchen. It’s okay if I have to peel shrimps all day, I simply would like to look and learn from the inside. I’ve even picked out the place I want to work at: To Hyang.

Because I’d like to learn how to make kimchi, soybean paste, pickled bellflower, fried dry anchovies, and maybe infused soju from a Korean lady. Of course there are recipes online, which I tend not to read because they are too precise. But I’ve just heard too many good things about To Hyang, including Chef Im’s selection of various aging sauces, pickles, and garden plants, that I want to infiltrate her kitchen.

To Hyang - Dinner begins, banchan and a cup of persimmon infused soju

Not to mention her so gori chim (소 꼬리 찜, $18.99). Braised oxtail in a sweet, thick sauce with hard boiled eggs. Magnificent hard boiled eggs. The egg white got just the right springiness after the braise. The yolk wakes up memories of my mom’s thit kho trung for the Lunar New Year feasts. Though no doubt loved by everyone, this simple combination is not served often enough in restaurants, and when it is served, the portion is not enough for the whole table, especially a table with me. I can never have enough eggs simmered in a braised meat sauce.

The rest of To Hyang’s fixed menu is fairly standard of a Korean establishment, with kimchi jeon, soondubu, and bibim nangmyeon among others. A few recommendations from Chef Im’s daughter are the hand pulled noodle soup kalguksu, which we did not get, and the pork belly kimchi salad samgyeopsal muchim (삼겹살 무침, $15.99), which we did get.

It looks like a fiery truck load of paprika accidentally got dumped onto the plate, but it’s served cold, the pork belly is succulent as always, and the heat dissipates as quickly as it hits. It’s refreshing like mint ice cream.

On the left wall hangs a white board, hand scribbled, of the special du jour, the soju cocktails, and a list of house infused sojus ($15 each bottle). For the processed meat lovers (me), there’s budae jjigae (부대찌개), hot dogs and spam in a gochujang and kimchi soup. For the fish egg lovers (me), there’s al jjigae (알 찌게), a hefty lot of pollock roe in a mildly spiced stock with tofu ($15.99). For the fish lovers (not quite me), there’s kalchi jorim (갈치 조림), meaty beltfish and potato simmered in ganjang, garnished with bellpepper and white sesame ($15.99). With bones. So make sure to try this in the presence of an Asian if using chopsticks to pull off the flesh without disrupting the 200-bone fish skeleton is not your forte. I’m a useless exception of my race though, I still get bones dig in my throat even now.

So I prefer to go with the big bones, like chicken. At To Hyang, I first learned the proper (Korean) way to eat the chicken in the samgyetang (삼계탕, $22.99): put salt and pepper onto a plate (or any available surface), and dip a piece of chicken into it.

Although my dining company was more impressed with the spicy bubbling kamjatang (감자탕, pork rib stew with potato and greens, $13.99), and although the lack of the sam (ginseng) flavor in the samgyetang did leave me a bit unsatisfied, in hindsight that porridge-like soup, plain and fatty, is a perfect soothing finish to recover the tastebuds, which were numbed from too much chili powder. It also reflects just the character of To Hyang itself. In today’s tumultuous gastrosphere where everything is mixed with everything else and everyone is making a big deal about this or that food movement, this little Inner Richmond restaurant keeps a modest profile, no website, no long line in front (yet), a recent picture of our lady with Anthony Bourdain on the wall. Chef Im keeps her kitchen in order by herself, making food for the patrons the same way she’s made for her daughters, and preserving the “to hyang” (토향), the earthy flavors.

Address: To Hyang (토향)
3815 Geary St
San Francisco, CA 94118
(415) 668-8186
(Now only opened for dinner)

… to my skinniness.

If there’s a place I should frequent to quickly improve my willow look and strengthen my Texas tie, it’d be the House of Prime Ribs on Van Ness Avenue. I might have lived in the Bay for too long and hung out with too many vegetarian, environmentally conscious, ethical-eater friends that sometimes the thought crosses my mind; except I always feel extremely hungry on my vegan days so I don’t think I can give up cookies and ice cream. Thankfully, I also have a number of fleischliebend friends who keep me from straying by putting me face to face with a slab of tender, juicy red meat. All ethical thoughts begone, I helplessly grabbed the knife and fork.

I actually got a gasp, a deep sigh and a disapproving look from my company when I asked that my prime rib be medium. The men asked for “as raw as possible” because they wanted to “taste the meat”. Men… I could taste my medium meat just fine.

The second difference between their dinner and mine is the size. There are four sizes (and a kid size with milk and ice cream, which kinda sounds attractive to me :-P); I got the smallest size, of course. They got the second largest and the largest (the King Cut), which qualify for an extra slice of meat if they so desire after finishing the first cut. The King Cut is 27 ounces, with a bone, wider than my spread hand and roughly one inch thick.

The third difference is the condiment. They smothered their rare prime ribs with horseradish cream sauce, making a dreamy cleansing beef sashimi; I eat my meat pure in its own juice.

The last difference is the accompanying drink. They paired their meal with a red Zinfandel, I paired mine with water. (Who can taste the meat now. :-P)

But that’s about it. There is not much room to wiggle in your order. There’s a choice between creamed spinach and creamed corn, which was added when there was the salmonella scare among the spinaches, but everyone recommended the creamed spinach anyway. Then there’s a choice between baked and mashed potato, and as long as one of us got the baked potato, we got to watch the waiter mix and dump a dollop of sour cream onto the potato in just the amount of time that he says “first we fluff, then we stuff”. I like that I don’t have to think much when I come here, simply set the carnivore loose and enjoy.

But in all honesty the meat isn’t the best part of the meal, it’s the salad with the house celery salt dressing and the vegan breadstick that come before the meat. Besides, I was sufficiently full after the salad.

At the end of the King Cut, Mike skipped the bone (which I think is the best part) and gently downed another slice of beef. I admire the American appetite.

We did do dessert, and if you must ask, the strawberry in the strawberry shortcake was better than the shortcake, which, being a few hairs too dense, was one of two slight disappointments for me at the House. The other is the 45 minutes spent at the bar despite having a reservation. Either the House likes efficiency and semi overbooks, or they’re being considerate enough to give us a wait in preparation for the gargantuan meal. In return, I got to watch the barmaid and reassured myself that I can never be one. 🙂

Address: House of Prime Rib (open for dinner only)
1906 Van Ness Ave.
San Francisco, CA
(415) 885-4605

Jen‘s been pushing me to push this post out of the drafts, just as I’ve been pushing her to publish her very first post on Where’s the Seitan?, her blooming, Chicago-based vegan food blog. Her lively, conversational writing draws you in, just as Jen herself. 🙂 When she reaches a million views per month, I hope she’ll still like to share a meal and talks about movies with the humble me.

During lunch break on Tuesday, after a fantastic plate of fresh fruits and cucumbers at the cafeteria (if I eat at St. John cafeteria long enough I’d turn into a fruitarian), we could hardly wait until dinner to eat something real, so we dived into Yelp and Google Maps in search of a “good but inexpensive” place (Jen’s request) closed enough to the bus stop. Coins were tossed, rock-paper-scissor was played, phone calls were made, decisions were revised, and a reservation was confirmed: 7:15 pm at Andiamo.

Our group has diversity: one strict vegan, one vegetarian who loves goat cheese, one omnivore who is allergic to all dairy except butter, one omnivore who doesn’t like goat cheese and doesn’t really care about any cheese, and one omnivore who loves potatoes. We start off sharing some Roasted Beet Salad ($7.75) and Caponata Bruschetta (eggplant bruschetta, $7.5). Cheese on the side.

The soft but not mushy eggplant, sauteed and deeply seasoned with balsamic vinaigrette, offers a nice contrast with the toast. Nonetheless, it loses to the refreshing simplicity of the roasted beet.

Even more points for the beet salad is the tapenade on the accompanying focaccia slice, which reminds me of pâté, and anything that reminds me of pâté reminds me of joy.

I asked the vegetarian who loves goat cheese to rate her Chilled Gazpacho (vegetable soup, $5.5) from 1 to 5, with 5 being the best, and her response was a shrugging 3. I forgot to ask about her main course, but judging from her smile eating that slice of Pizza Margherita (mozzarella, parmesan, basil and tomato, $8.25), I think she would give it a 4.5.

The omnivore who loves potatoes ordered, surprisingly, the Chicken Marsala with roasted fingerling potatoes ($16.5). I would admit that for a second, I was wondering why an Italian place would serve Indian food, but the Marsala with an “r” is the name of the wine used to make a stark, rich wine reduction sauce for this braised chicken. The potatoes were good, of course.

The omnivore with dairy-‘cept-butter intolerance offered me to try a tentacle-full squid head in his Spaghetti Puttanesca with Calamari ($14). The tentacles are the best because they soak and store up so much sauce in their bundling-up state. I didn’t try the pasta, but you bet it was some tantalizing red sauce.

The omnivore with an indifference toward cheese treasures the Crispy Duck Leg. I went with the smaller order ($14.25 vs. $19.75), and it was plenty. The meat fell off the bone, the spinach sleek and sodden with a sweet sauce, the turnip al dente. If I had to complain, it would be about the unnecessary softness of the grilled polenta, it’s simply too homogeneous, like cheese.

The vegan customized herself a cheese-less pie with portabella (I like how the Italian name has a grander ring to it than “button mushroom”), arugula, roasted zucchini, roasted garlic, basil and olive oil. I can’t describe her pizza better than her, so I won’t even try. The most interesting thing is that she has found a combination on pizza that tastes “almost as good as cheese”.

And I’ve found a combination that makes Andiamo stand out in my mind when it comes to Italian food: steal potatoes and squid tentacles from the friends’ plates, eat out on the patio in the summer Santa Fe evening, watch the sun sink behind the adobe cake-like houses, and let out a sigh over the empty street, then good food becomes exceptional, and you really feel the lazing peacefulness of this town.

Address: Andiamo
322 Garfield Street
Santa Fe, NM 87501
(505) 995-9595

In Santa Fe, a student-friendly 15-dollar 3-mile cab ride can bring you to a student-sophisticated 15-dollar 3-course prix fixe lunch. It’s just a matter of trusting your cab driver.

We were too lazy to read the maps downtown or to plan a lunch spot, sorta in the picky mood for good food in a refined atmosphere, and hungry. We blankly browsed through the recommended list given to us when the conference started, but everything looked oddly the same: just black ink. It wouldn’t hurt, so we asked our taxi driver. At first, she mentioned a couple of Mexican fares, but Bumble Bee’s burrito was still fresh in our mouth mind from the night before. Then she brought up Il Piatto, a cozy resto italiano a few blocks away from the buzzing Plaza. Her sister likes to go there. So did we.

The 15-dollar prix fixe lunch must be the draw-in factor of Il Piatto, but its patronage crowd remains the middle-aged-and-overs, who can nonchalantly drown the Wednesday afternoon sun in their wine glass, gleefully talk about their family for hours without worrying about their family, that sort of things. In that manner, Il Piatto reflects the atmosphere of Santa Fe as a whole: relaxing yet cultured.

Its food matches its ‘sphere, from the crunchy starter bread and the salty olive oil, which receives a stamp of approval from Jen, the olive oil lover. Hyunmi’s Tomato Mozzarella salad brings forth the simple but well-paired mix of basil pesto and briny parmigiano, which is topped with melting soft roasted bell pepper and a drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette.

Jen’s Zuppa del Giorno is a chilled tomato and basil soup. (Ah yes, Il Piatto’s prix fixe allows the patron to choose any three dishes on the menu for a total of $14.95). Here’s an embarrassing story. At the table, Jen and I asked each other what “giorno” means. She’s been to France and I once studied Spanish, we both felt that “giorno” sounds utterly familiar, but clueless we still were. Just now, as I’m typing this post, the light bulb turns on: giorno ~ jornada ~ jour = day, so zuppa del giorno is just soupe du jour. :-/ Yeah… *hands cover face*. Anywaiz, me likes Jen’s soup.

But my Grilled Calamari was pretty munchtastic, too. With the plumpness safely tucked in, chewy squid and crunchy bell pepper couple like butterflies and wild flowers.

The second courses arrived soon after. I went with my gut feelings and ordered the chicken liver (no pun intended), sauteed with pancetta and shallots in a red wine vinegar reduction. Liver always tastes like chocolate to me, so I’ve never had a disappointing liver dish. Hyunmi confirmed that this one is good and that “it tastes like liver”. Its accompanying grilled squash and bell pepper were the best seasoned grilled squash and bell pepper I’ve ever had. Jen’s eyes lit up when she took a bite. It’s okay, Jen, your garden salad was tossed with some darn good lemon vinaigrette!

Hyunmi chose the Italian classic: spaghetti and meatballs. ‘Cept these meatballs are said to have beef, lamb, and pork altogether. I like Koreans because they like meat, among other things. 😀

Il Piatto needs to have vegan desserts, though. Jen was munching more bread and olive oil while Hyunmi and I shared a zabaglione (egg custard) and a caramel & raisin bread pudding.

Personally, I prefer the bread pudding for its burnt corners and spongy texture, but the zabaglione is just so easy to eat, like yogurt, that it’s hard to stop digging in.

If we come here again, one of us will have to try the tiramisu to cover all three desserts in the dolce section. 😛 It’d be economic too, because Il Piatto absolutely refuses to let you pay the $14.95 without getting 3 dishes, even if your 2 choices total to $15.58. You have to get more to pay less. It doesn’t make sense, but there’s no harm in taking a to-go box either. 🙂

Address: Il Piatto (The Plate)
95 W. Marcy Street
Santa Fe, NM 87501
(505) 984-1091

Lunch for three: $52.44

Thiên Phú has been in my draft list for over 18 months. I wanted to write a post worthy of their dishes, but a proper post requires proper pictures, and either I was too hungry at the time or I just sucked at taking pictures at the time (I still suck now, but less than before) that every single picture was blurry like a blizzard. I was more concerned about food than food blogging so I didn’t snap many shots and didn’t check the clarity of the shots I took before digging in. I also didn’t know any photo editing. Basically, I was plain dumb.

At many points I thought about abandoning the post altogether, but we had a good meal that time and I even fed the birds in the parking lot while waiting for my friends to come join us. The birds were full, we were full. The restaurant was, as usual, empty except for us (because their menu is catered to large groups and wedding parties), so we got extra attention from the staff. Such memories kept me from deleting the draft that had nothing but terrible pictures. Then my parents came to the rescue when they revisited Thien Phu in the spring and took some luminous shots, like the beef and shrimp salad above and the seafood stir fry on rice below.

The salad, like most Vietnamese salads soaked in that half sweet, half tangy mixed fish sauce, was yummy. The seafood stir fry was nothing beyond expectation, they said, but at the very least, Thiên Phú brown sauce was not fattily thick like that goo in Phở Hà’s pan-fried phở. Dad’s vermicelli with stir fried beef was a good sweep, as evident from its picture.

If you’ve read my blog for long enough, you probably would notice that my dad almost never orders anything but beef, while Little Mom goes for shrimp or fish nine times out of ten. Naturally, Thien Phu ranks high in my parents’ list because their specialties are the 7 courses of beef and the whole grilled fish.

We’ve never tried all seven beef courses at once. We just choose a few that sound most savory, and for this party of 5, something shareable. Like beef that can be wrapped in rice paper and dipped in sauces. The chunky, fatty steamed beef balls (bò chả đùm) was broken into coarser bits to be scooped with a rice crackers or wrapped with lettuce. Razor-thin leaves of still red beef were dunked into heated vinegar for a simple, tender, and tangy completeness of bò nhúng dấm. Halved shrimps joined the beef in a similar fashion to make tôm nhúng dấm. Dad even dipped it in mắm nêm (ground anchovy sauce) to tighten the taste.

Then there’s the good old style of flopping beef slices on a hot black grill pan and hearing it sizzle while loading the wet rice paper with bean sprout, herbs, pickled radish and daikon. I also put a slice of unripe banana in my bò nướng vỉ roll because its cookie-like texture and clinging aftertaste are fun, although they don’t add much to the roll as a whole.

Leaving the blurry images of December 2009, we’re back to the present: grilled beef ball on rice. The marinade was sealed inside its smooth, gritty texture, each ball was so juicy it would shame a plump mango.

The seafood dishes are not subpar either. Loaded with shrimp, squid, and broccoli, mì hải sản (seafood noodle) had the sweetness of hủ tíu Nam Vang (Phnom Penh ka tieu) and the strength (and curly noodles) of ramen. The more broth we drank, the more delicious it got.

But there is one thing that everyone gets when they go to Thiên Phú: the crunchy-skin grilled fish (cá nướng da giòn). The whole catfish is enough for two by itself, grilled hiddenly in the kitchen until its skin breaks a crackling sound and glisters like topaz, then it’s brought out to you topped with crusted peanuts, cilantro and lime wedges. Its flesh stays white, juicy and soft. Roll up a side piece, you can savor its pristine, naturally sweet taste or dip it in nước mắm. The second grilled fish I had here this May was better than the one I had in December 2009, and so were their beef dishes. It’s good to see a good place gets better.

Just watch out for bones.

Address: Thiên Phú Restaurant
11360 Bellaire Blvd Ste 100
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 568-1448
(in the same parking lot as Giò Chả Đức Hương)

Lunch for 5: $76.03

What hits the spot in the morning better than a hot packed handful of sweet sticky rice with muối mè (sesame-sugar-salt mix)? A hot packed handful of sweet sticky rice with soft steamed whole peanuts and muối mè. Xôi đậu – my forbidden childhood love.

$1.50 for a full tummy.

Mom did not want me to eat too much xôi đậu in the past because peanuts are known for producing gas excess.

Address: Alpha Bakery & Deli
11205 Bellaire Boulevard
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 988-5222

San Antonio sleeps in on Sunday. It may be the seventh largest city in the States but it acts like either a college student or an old man who can’t sleep at night and frequently doses off in the day: Saturday night – cars, tourists and horse carriages packed Houston, Commerce and the streets about, Sunday morning – there may be 50 cars on the freeway and 3 people wandering downtown: us. The plus side for walking the pavements at 6 am is you can pose for pictures without being embarrassed about acting like a tourist. The downside is the restaurants aren’t opened, actually, they remain closed for the rest of the day.

Just when we thought about settling for the hotel breakfast, the internet came to rescue: the Guenther House in Arsenal, an 1860 old-house-turned-museum with a late Victorian styled parlor, German-imported porcelain and a terrace looking out to the river, serves breakfast all day.

The pancakes are fluffy. The white gravy is thick like melted cheese. The pineapples and oranges are sweet.

But the best of all was the so-called Southern Sweet Cream Waffle. I’m a pancake gobbler but in this pancake vs. waffle match, the crispy, airy waffle with subtly sweet dough and syrup-filled pockets won hands down.

A red head exercising down the river, across the street from the Guenther House

They sell the waffle mix upstairs the Guenther House for $6.50 per 15 oz. We cleansed our palates with a perfumed-cool, lingering sip of raspberry sage ice tea and filled our lungs with the river breeze as we prepared to drive back to Houston. Another town has been added to our list of retirement havens.
For a mini tour of the villa, click on Mr. Red Head’s beak.

Address: The Guenther House
205 East Guenther
San Antonio, TX 78204
(210) 227-1061

Country-styled breakfast for three: $25.63

This has nothing to do with this post, but I want to say it anyway: I’ve been home for two weeks and Little Mom’s been making sure that everyday I eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, fruits, mid day snacks, late night snacks, and more snacks. “Stock up for the rest of the year cuz you don’t eat at school. I know you,” she says. 😀 I get sleepy if I’m constantly full –> now I’m sleepy all day –> now I can’t blog. On the note of abundance, this post is about 4 kiosks in the food court of the Memorial Super H Mart, where my parents will most likely frequent for a quick tasty lunch after buying the kimchis and the myulchi bokkeum.

The food court makes a wavy strip at the right end of the store, starting with Tous les Jours at the door and ending with a kiosk selling kimbab (김밥) near the kimchi section far back, the tables sealed from the view of passing shoppers by a strategic row of potato sacks and artificial sunflowers. I didn’t stand long enough in front of each kiosk to read everything cuz I feel bad facing the cashier (and possibly the owner) for too long without ordering, but it appears that almost every menu more or less has the same common Korean dishes (like bibimbap (비빔밥) and galbi tang (갈비탕)). Being in a food court made us feel soup-inclined, kinda like how we opt for phở when we want a quick fill, I guess.

The non-spicy seafood noodle soup (#24, $8.11) from Sobahn Express (also signed as Bibijo(?!)) was ordered next to last but ready first. ‘Tis my first time seeing a stone bowl embedded in a wooden box. The box must have helped containing the heat longer cuz it was at least 20 minutes into eating and Little Mom was still blowing at every bite. It’s a good choice for her cuz she always likes it hot and the seasoning was just right to her taste.

My soondae guk (순대국) ($8.66) from Jumma was ordered last and ready second. It came topped with a hefty scoop of some brown powder that looks like ground pepper and tastes like tea. It has a bland bone stock that tastes like sul lung tang (설렁탕), to which I added a few teaspoons of salt and kimchi juice. There’s no dangmyeon (당면) in the soup like sul lung tang though; I just dumped the rice into the soup. With the pig intestine and liver (yum :-D) in thin slices and the soondae (순대) in chunks, it became sorta like a bowl of Vietnamese cháo lòng (innard porridge), a street nosh for the late night drunks and the market ahjummas.

Close-up of the soondae: blood sausage stuffed with dangmyeon. It’s grainy and pretty bland.

Bi had to wait for his food for so long I thought they forgot him. But the wait was totally worth it, his samsoon jajangmyeon (삼순 자장면) ($12.99) from Daddy & Daughter was the best of the three. The black soybean sauce (jajang (자장)) is sweet and thick but not fatty. Now I know why they make it look so good in dramas: it really is good. Better than chowmein and pad thai. (Once upon a time I idiotically ordered my very first jajangmyeon at a Chinese restaurant whose name I won’t say, it was so boring I had to stop after 3 bites. It goes to say that if you can’t make an ethnic dish as good as or better than the people of that ethnicity, then don’t tarnish its name by making it. Considering that jajangmyeon originates from China, it goes to say that if you can’t make your own ethnic dish as good as or better than the people of another ethnicity, then you might as well stop making it.)

I like places like Toreore: upfront and simple about what they dish out. There are 8-10 choices of fried chicken and you need to decide if you want 7 ($8.65) or 14 pieces, but we always stick to the non-spicy kind and that leaves us one option: garlic soy sauce chicken. It ain’t no OB Chicken Town but sure is better than KFC. Mom liked the sweetness, Bi liked the juiciness, I liked that they liked it.

These Korean fried chickens have cute pictures, too. 😀

The place is crowded with the continuous flow of families and carts pre- and post-shopping but the people are quiet. The tables are not squeaky clean but a quick tissue wiping would do. Foods are served on blue plastic trays and the kimchi isn’t top notch, but you’re not paying 18 bucks a meal. The Super H Mart food court is the best among the food courts I’ve been to in terms of both taste and atmosphere. As Little Mom says, we feel at home because the shoppers here share a similar culture, yet we can also talk comfortably because the neighboring tables don’t share our language.

Address: Super H Mart food court
1302 Blalock Road
Houston, TX 77055

A Japanese chef, a former Korean restaurant interior, a Vietnamese manager, and a buffet menu combining all three plus Chinese. Sounds unauthentic and one-star fusion? I thought so too, I didn’t plan on blogging about Saigon’s Buffet until I was a third way through my plate. Then I scrambled for the cam to snap a few from my mom’s. Good thing it’s a buffet, can always go back for seconds.

From the far right end we gandered first through the kimchis and namuls, grouped with a bright yellow ripe mango salad mixed with gochujang and something soakingly flavorful similar to either pickled sweet onion or green papaya salad. To its left are sushi rolls and plump chunks of red tuna and orange salmon, and a few stubby octopus tentacles that I really wanted to get but didn’t know where to fit on my heaping pile.

From the far back of L-shape buffet counter are fried rice, chow mein, and lightly mixed rice vermicelli (similar to bún xêu) that goes exceedingly well with the sesame-oil-sweet-smelling, cucumber-free wakame salad. Trays full of shrimps, baked salmon-wrapped pork, and grilled shrimp paste on a lemongrass stalk shine next to the more Vietnamese familiars: bánh xèo, bánh bèo, stuffed tofu in tomato sauce…

Little Mom fell for the all-around-crunchy and coconut-sweet sizzling crepes right away (“better than Kim Son‘s,” said she), while I grew on the chewy leaflets of semi-translucent steamed flour encasing carrots, mushroom, and pork, which looks halfway like a bánh bột lọc and tastes halfway like a bánh giò.

The dessert section lies between the octopus tentacles and the cashier, which is at the corner of the L. Simple, but sufficient for a cool washing-down, are the coconut milk jelly and the fruits, classic silky and Bi’s favorite is the flan, while the wafers dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sesame seeds hit home in a nutty cheerful crunch. “Take a lot the first time,” obviously it’s not because they “charge for seconds” like the manager jokes, but because you don’t need to sample things here to be safe; everything’s better than expected. Everything’s yummy.

As we waited for the machine to print our receipt, the manager told Little Mom that the chef just brought out bún bò xào (stir-fried beef rice vermicelli), Little Mom said oh Bi likes that, had it come out earlier he woulda stuffed himself with it. And who woulda thought, the manager offered us a free to-go box with bún bò xào! It could just be the opening month (when they charge only $12.99 instead of $15.99 per person) and the beaming summer spirit, but Saigon Buffet surely had us this time. Come back we will.

Address: Saigon Buffet (previously Korean Garden Grille)
11360 Bellaire Blvd
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 879-0228