Flavor Boulevard

We were looking for a get-together location on New Year’s Eve, when we decided that since both of our families like Korean food, it’d be good to let Ms Baker try it for the first time too. Houston’s West side houses many a place for a good bulgogi, concentrating on the section of Long Point that’s sandwiched between Gessner and Blalock, but we set our mind on Korea Garden. Half of us had been here several times, and we didn’t want any adventure on Ms Baker’s first impression, she’s a conservative. 🙂

It turned out her very first impression was curiosity: how did they manage to section 7 equal slices of the haemul pajeon (해물 바전)? It was a good jeon, however lay on the soggy side if compared to pancakes at Secret Garden and Casserole House. The banchan selection included some of our favorites: potato, seaweed, and sliced eomuk (어묵), although none appealed to the Americans at the table. The kimchis had quite a bit of chili, though.

So did the dak bokgeum (닭 볶 음 stir-fried chicken) that my dad fell for. That sneaky heat wouldn’t hit you right away.  Only half way through the heap of bird and veggie did he  turn to my mom and me with a tilted smile and a slight head shake: too spicy.

My mom and I knew better than ordering something with a chili pepper sign. So for soups we went. Her a gook bab (국밥 rice and sliced beef in warm beef broth), that was almost too bland.

And me a mandoo gook (만두국 dumpling soup), sweet and delicate but not really a tongue catcher.

The other side of the table ordered their regular bulgogi (불고기) and bulgalbi (불갈비), something that would never go wrong,

and a side of fried mandoo (만두), which looked irresistibly crunchy.

The staff was sweet, like this lady who mixed bibimbap (비빔밥) at amazing speed. Her wrist spun like a cotton candy machine. I don’t know how Ms Baker knew that dolsot bibimbap (돌솥 비뱜밥) is what a first timer should get, of if she knew, but I took it as a good sign that she scooped every last grain of rice.

So here we sat in a room sectioned off from the others by shoji screens and chatted from 7:15 to 9:30 about all things from Jerry Brown to TiVo. We must have been the second to last to leave Korea Garden that night. Ms Baker’s first impression of Korean food was heartily filled with laughters. The price was hefty, as most Korean dinners are, but the family bonding between friends is priceless.

Address: Korea Garden Restaurant
9501 Long Point Rd, Ste. Z
Houston, TX 77055
(713) 468-2800
www.koreagardenhouston.com

Dinner for seven: $157.88

Among the countable Vietnamese restaurant owners that ever bother to make their menus available on the web, Kim Châu and her husband put together quite a decent site for their Red Pier: black background, colorful foods, dazzling images of the bar and the walls, names and prices of 166 dishes minus dessert. Red Pier is a go-to when you work in the ‘hood, have an hour for lunch, and just want some normal noodle soup or vermicelli at a reasonable price. Or when you crave something sweet and cold and nutty, like a chè ba màu (trichromatic bean and tapioca ice).

Don’t drive too fast down the one-way Milam, you’d miss the restaurant for sure. It took us a few loops around until we pulled into the right parking lot, just across the street from the proprietors’ other business, Kim Châu Jewelers, on the left side. Also, don’t order Cơm Tôm Rim (rice with caramelized shrimp), unless you’re having salt-deficiency. If you must, Chè Ba Màu proves to be a comforting three-buck companion.

Do order #1: Gỏi Sứa Tôm Thịt (jellyfish salad with shrimp and pork), the only setback is its chilipepper overload, which I’m sure you can ask the cook to take it down a few notches. The thinly sliced  jellyfish blends rather too well with carrots and cucumber strings you’d have to look to notice its cold, clean elastic crunch. Gỏi Sứa Tôm Thịt is one of the house specials that Red Pier emphasizes on their TV advertisement, and combined with large shrimp crackers it’s certainly a better execution of jellyfish than duck tongue and jelly fish at Chinese dim sum halls.

Do order #2: Mì Xá Xíu (char siu egg noodle soup). This is a cheap (only $6.25) and satisfying deal. It’s slightly more involved than Wiki Wiki’s saimin bowl, with crispy green onions and a meaty sweet broth.

Do order #3: the classic cold rice vermicelli (Bún) with the not so classic grilled beef (Bò Nướng), certainly bathed in nước mắm and garnished with chopped green onion seasoned in lard (mỡ hành), crushed peanuts, fried shallots, pickled carrots and daikon. For the greens lovers there’s that hidden pile of bean sprouts and shredded cucumber at the bottom, whose texture matches that of neither bún nor beef. (Now that I think of it, bibim nangmyeon also has bean sprout and cucumber, so it must be a cold noodle thing.)

Overall, Little Mom found the place less than pristine as the stir-fry smell sweeps over the metallic kitchen counter into the dining area. Red Pier’s chefs also take a tad too much liberty with the seasonings. But not all Vietnamese restaurants have jellyfish salad and friendly service, and usually the ones with 166 items on their menu don’t execute any of them too well, so I’d give Red Pier a B if the red-and-ebony dining box were a student in my class.

Address: Red Pier Vietnamese Restaurant
2704 Milam St
Ste C
Houston, TX 77006
theredpier.com
(713) 807-7726
(information from der Miller: Red Pier and Les Givral’s Sandwiches are sister businesses, both on Milam St.)

Lunch for 3:
Medium jellyfish salad (9.95) + grilled beef vermicelli (6.95) + rice & caramelized shrimp (7.75) + char siu noodle soup (6.25) + bean & tapioca ice (3.00) + tax
= $36.70

When you reach(ed) mid 20s, don’t you just hear all sort of marriage announcements popping up among your social circle? By the time of college graduation, half the girls I know have gotten their wedding registry up on Facebook, and I thought okay it’s just an American thing (the wedding I mean, though the registry is American too). Then this past Christmas my best college friend missed our annual reunion for his big day in India, and another pal who I thought was still wandering the streets of Chengdu dropped the bomb that he’s engaged. Then I got news that two of my eleventh grade buddies in Vietnam are going to say the vows (not to each other) within this year. Then it really hits me.

I haven’t written about any wedding party food, even though I’ve been to many weddings :D. So why not celebrate this year’s Valentine’s day with a Vietnamese confection whose name derives from the main characters of any wedding: bánh xu xê, originally called bánh phu thê, or “husband (and) wife”?

My translation “couple cookie” is for the sake of consonant concordance. They are similar to neither American cookie, Scottish cookie nor British cookie. These little bouncy sweet green pillows get their names from being gift desserts at Vietnamese couples’ engagements back in the day, when they used banana leaves to make little boxes instead of a double layer of cellophane wrapper. At one point the adults called them bánh phu thê, then the kids mispronounced it to bánh xu xê (|soo-seh|) and the name stuck. Technique-wise, it takes a grandmother’s experience to make a mixture of sticky rice flour, arrowroot starch and water into a translucent jello casing that is resilient but not sticky. Some of us might find its crunch-chewy texture too rubbery, other would question its lack of flavor, but the skill of transforming ingredients alone is admirable, and I like chewing. 🙂 In fact I like the outer layer more than the filling.

Traditionally, taro cut into strips are mixed with the cooked batter to give onyx-like patterns, while the modern concoctions can have sesame seeds on top or dry coconut strips within to spice up the homogeneity. The fancy pâtissiers of old Northern Vietnam villages might also sprinkle a few drops of pomelo flower extract into the mung bean paste filling for enhancing fragrance. But I wouldn’t expect that from our local sandwich shops in the States, not when it’s less than $2 for a pack of four.

It’s the kind of sweet you either love or hate. My mom loves it. The Gastronomer suggests using it to pelt your loved ones. It’s the perfect representation of a marriage really, and I’m not talking about the symbolic meaning of glutinous rice (bonding) and all. Its shiny outlook is inviting – everybody likes to get married, then you take a bite and find it tough, lackluster, disappointing, at the least not quite as expected – the post-wedding depression, then you get to the core and discover some tender sweetness after all. 🙂

Got ’em from: Alpha Bakery & Deli (inside Hong Kong City Mall)
11209 Bellaire Blvd # C-02
Houston, TX 77072-2548
(281) 988-5222

Previously on Sandwich Shop Goodies: chuối nếp nướng (grilled banana in sticky rice)
Next on Sandwich Shop Goodies: bánh da lợn (pig skin pie)

*Guest post in Vietnamese by my Mom, translated by me*

Back in the day, I seldom ate from street stalls or vendors’ baskets, my conscience imprinted with my mother’s unmovable doubt on the street food’s cleanliness. Nonetheless, I scurry with no hesitation to make it to Kim Son for lunch today, just because the TV news last night showed that Kim Son has a 9-day New Year food festival where the goodies are sold in baskets, mimicking the vendor stalls in Vietnam.

Like usual, the display is a buffet style, but this week the dining hall is decorated with flowers, fruits, and Tet greetings, the food selection is also larger and more interesting than normal days. I notice thịt kho and dưa giá (slow braised pork and pickled bean sprout, two traditional Tet savory dishes), bánh xèo (sizzling crepe), bánh bèo (water fern banh), bánh bột lọc (translucent banh) bánh cống (mung bean fried muffin).

In the baskets lie a few types of xôi, bánh tét, and mứt. A tightening mix of homesickness and joy rushes through me as I see woven baskets, bamboo shoulder poles, and the waxy green banana leaves holding and covering morsels of Tet.

We load our first plate with seven-course beef, though the kitchen churns out only four: grilled beef (bò nướng vỉ), beef loaf (bò chả đùm), lolot beef (bò nướng lá lốt), and beef sausage in omental fat casing (bò mỡ chài). The little pinky-length fat beef sausages are extraordinarily tender, grilled on medium fire and so well seasoned they have the sweet smell of talents.

Meanwhile, my husband chooses the restaurant’s recommended special of the day: grilled snail sausage in banana leaves. I don’t like snails but have a taste anyway just out of curiosity. It is slightly spicy, but I get blown away. There is no hint of the wet and grassy snail scent that used to give me goosebumps when I was little. The banana leaf wrapping protects the velvety sausages from the burnt smell of open fire grilling, and gives it a sweet green aroma of summer breeze. As much as I like fish, I must admit these are better than the Indonesian fish sausages I’ve had a few months ago.

Another special is bánh canh cua Nam Phổ. I only learned about Nam Phổ, a village in central Vietnam, and its famous udon-like noodle soup from books, so I am overjoyed to see the real thing on the menu today. Bits of crab meat amidst chubby slick chunks of banh canh in a scarlet broth rich of crab sauce is the loveliest sight of all noodle soups. Banh canh Nam Pho, unlike banh canh of the South, doesn’t have loads of shrimp or pork, the broth isn’t starkly clear, yet its thickness delivers just a mellow natural sweetness. The first bite reveals little taste, but the second, the third, and a few sips of the broth in between start to sweep in waves of riverbank wind and meadow fragrance.

The country lunch sets us back $35.75 and 90 minutes. As we get ready to leave at 12:30, the parking lot gets ready for a massive lion dance and firecracker show. The sight of sixteen gaudy lions and hundred-meter long red squib strings and their boisterous sounds follow me all the way home, as I think of how we, the Asian expats, try to bring with us our lunar new year and our motherlands wherever we go.

Address: Kim Son Restaurant
10603 Bellaire Blvd
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 598-1777

This post is included in the February 2011 edition of Delicious Vietnam, a blogging event organized by Anh from A Food Lover’s Journey and Hong and Kim from Ravenous Couple.

*Guest post in Vietnamese by my Mom, translated by me*

There are two places with the name Thanh Đa in Bellaire. One is Bún Măng Vịt Thanh Đa (Thanh Đa vermicelli soup with bamboo shoot and duck), and the other is Thanh Đa Quán. We happen to choose Thanh Đa Quán for lunch today, partly because they have the family dining option, which is rare in the States. The reason, I can only guess, is that most people who eat out like to pick their own items, or go to buffets if they don’t know what to pick. Family style lies between these two options, where the restaurant decides for the diners a fix menu (for example, Thanh Da Quan gives 4 dishes for 2 people, 5 dishes for 4 people, or 6 dishes for 6 people). The total bill for family dining usually comes out higher than a buffet ticket but lower than a combination of single plates.

Today, it is boiled duck with ginger dipping sauce, lotus stem salad with pork and shrimp, sour catfish soup, and claypot catfish, all for $21.6 (after tax, with rice included).

The diner is small but neatly organized, the seating arrangement is comfortable, and they have but four TV screens in the four corners. Two of them are tuned to American news and shows, the other two Vietnamese documentaries and movies, always a plus for me. (I’m not so fond of places that make the customers watch boring football games or unlaughable comedies.) Another thing I like about this particular joint is its staff’s friendliness, not a common thing at Vietnamese eateries. The waiting boys and girls, all small in age and size, have this casually gentle and respectful way toward even customers like me, who order to-gos and don’t give tips. The boy who brought out my order also apologizes profusely for the long wait, though I’ve actually enjoyed watching TV in those brief 20 minutes. 🙂 (The kitchen, he says, would gladly prepare the order for a speedy pickup if I call ahead.)

The good feeling from Thanh Đa Quán follows us home as we open the styrofoam boxes. There are a bit too few pieces of boiled duck, but all are tender and the accompanying not-so-spicy ginger mixed nuoc mam makes up in taste.

The lotus stem salad, a crunch-chewy bundle of lotus stems, shredded cucumber, celery, shrimp and boiled pork, is also not as spicy as its cousins from other restaurants. The apparent touch of lime gives the salad a refreshing boost, dusted with crushed roasted peanuts for occasional unconformities. It’s sour, but nowhere near as sour as the sour soup, which the chefs at Thanh Đa Quán must have made an effort to keep it true to its name. The fish slices are subtly luscious, the night-scented lily stems (doc mung) are airy and brightly green (I wonder how they get these so fresh in this icy winter weather), but nothing can hide the unforgiving, piercing acidity. I retreat to the pot and the stove: a re-seasoning is in order. Fortunately, sugar helps. It’s still the same fish, same pineapple, same tomato, same doc mung, same okra, but a few spoonfuls of sugar transform the soup from a duckling to a swan.

On the other hand, the clay pot fish is flawless. Two light golden catfish steaks shine in a thick bronze sauce, scenting off a homely wisp of nuoc mam and a caring embrace of caramelized sugar. Not overtly fatty, salty, or peppery, this clay pot fish is the epiphany of the Vietnamese marinating and simmering art. My daughter doesn’t like fish, but I’ll make sure to make her try this one next time she’s in town. It warms my heart realizing that even in this very American state of Texas, such simple yet articulate, inexpensive but valuable taste of my faraway homeland is still perfectly tuned.

Address: Thanh Đa Quán (Alief)
13090 Bellaire Blvd
Houston, TX 77407

(281) 988-9089

Chain means reliability. Berkeley’s snobbish take against big franchise and corporations plays to my blogging advantage, but there always lies the uncertainty. It could be a very good looking, cozy little restaurant with quaint menus, and mediocre food. They could have a long line of people waiting in the cold to be seated, and mediocre food. Somehow people sitting about you are all hyped up by the new raw or vegan order, but you just can’t enjoy yours because it’s mediocre food. When a business is the only of its name, there’s just no guarantee that it’s palatable to everyone, no matter how many stars it gets on Yelp or votes by the locals. Franchise takes care of that. I don’t know how. But I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t objectively like Burger King, Subway, Yogurt Land, KFC, et cetera (I say “objectively” because taste buds can be clouded by health conscience, religious reasons and who knows what). Some Vietnamese businesses, though still in much smaller scale, have also established their chain names. For banh mi, we almost always go to Lee’s Sandwiches or Huong Lan. For cha lua, we trust Gio Cha Duc Huong. When we’re in Houston, we go to Phở Danh to slurp noodle soups.

All three locations in Houston have the same silvery ambiance: white walls, glass door, formica tables, simple chairs, bright lights, white melamine dishware. We always get the same things here: pho bo tai for Dad, pho bo chin for Mom and me.

Mom always asks for extra giá trụng, blanched bean sprouts. And Dad always asks for hành dấm, pickled onion. Both are free.

He never asks for hành dấm anywhere else, making me wonder if it’s some special thing of Pho Danh. Vinegar and sugar soften the onion’s pungent flares, but keep it crisp and clean. I submerge it into the steaming broth. Dad savors it alone, one ring at a time.

Pho Danh in Texas

3 locations in Houston:
– 11209 Bellaire Blvd – (281) 879-9940
– 13480 Veterans Memorial Drive‎ – (832) 484-9449
– 11049 FM 1960 Rd‎ – (281) 890-4011

1 location in Austin:
– 11220 North Lamar Boulevard, Austin, TX‎ – (512) 837-7800‎

Do you have those times when you keep craving something sweet, even after you wiped clean a cereal bowl worth of Double Fudge Brownie, exterminated many prunes, and skillfully chewed up four pirouette cookies like a mafia boss smoking cigars? I’ve started to see such danger of staying up late, but sweet stuff is always easier to eat than savory stuff in those wee hours. To avoid having my belly exceed my face, I started going through pictures of food (it helps more than studying and thinking about food), and found some munchtastic  sweet treats I meant to but never got around to blog about.

1. Chè khoai môn (taro che)

One of the few country treats without mung bean paste. Depending on each root and how long it’s cooked, the purplish pale taro cubes can be grainy, nutty, a little chewy, or al dente, like scallop potato minus the butter. However they are, they serve as a textural contrast to the gooey pudding-like sticky rice base. I’m particularly charmed by the vibrant green color in this Lee’s Sandwiches‘ rendition, hopefully from pandan leaf extract. You know it’s a skilled cook when the sticky rice grains are still visible, yet so soft you don’t need to chew. Taro che is less sweet than other kinds of che, as coconut milk alone gives much of its sugary taste.

2. Chè bắp (corn che)

Another rare sticky rice concoction without mung bean intervention. Another pair of contrasting textures: crisp and firm kernels versus luscious goo. Another mild pudding sweetened by coconut milk. Bellaire Kim Son’s kitchen strayed from the common recipes that call for shaving the kernels off the cob, and used whole kernel sweet corn straight out of the cans. A simple, cheap, inhomogeneous toothsome mess.

More than 18 months ago: chè đậu trắng, chè bột báng, chè trôi nước

Tootsy Maki - RA Sushi's signature plate and guests' favorite, with crab mix, shrimp, and cucumber rolled and topped with crunchy tempura bits, and drizzled with sweet eel sauce

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital is the only pediatric cancer research center where families never pay for treatment not covered by insurance.

In the first week of June, from May 30 to June 5, all 25 locations of RA Sushi in Southern California, Arizona, East Texas, Florida, and five other states will host a fundraiser for St. Jude. Diners can choose any item on the Nicky’s Week Special menu, such as Shrimp Nigiri, Chicken Yakitori, the signature plates Tuna Tataki and Tootsy Maki. All sale profits from the Nicky’s Week menu will be donated to St. Jude.

If you’re in Houston or planning on driving by Houston, RA Sushi is opened for lunch 11a.m.-3p.m. daily, and dinner from 3p.m. to midnight at the Highland Village location, and 3p.m.-11p.m. at the CityCentre location. Last year RA Sushi in Highland Village alone raised nearly $10,000 during the week long event. This year RA Sushi in CityCentre will participate in the event for the first time.

On the Southern California front, there are six locations in San Diego, Tustin, Corona, Torrance, Chino Hills, and Huntington Beach.

The fundraiser started in 2005, in memory of the 13-year-old Nicholas “Nicky” Mailliard, shortly after his unsuccessful battle with brain cancer. Mr. Rich Howland, Nicky’s uncle and one of RA Sushi’s original founders, started the annual Nicky’s Week fundraising event to help fulfilling Nicky’s wish of finding a cure for cancer. Since 2005, the event has raised nearly $500,000 for St. Jude, and the goal this year is to add another $125,000 to that sum.

The cost of cancer treatment is on the order of $10,000 per year on the low end, and hundreds of thousands can be spent on each additional year of treatment.

So if you’re going to spend money on food and drinks during the first week of June, why not make your dollar more meaningful as well?

The 6th Annual Nicky’s Week – May 30 to June 5
RA Sushi Texas

• 3908 Westheimer, Houston, TX 77027 (at Highland Village above West Elm)
• 12860 Queensbury, Houston, TX 77024 (in CityCentre)
• 701 Lone Star Dr., Plano, TX 75024

RA Sushi California

• 13925 City Center Dr., Chino Hills, CA 91709
• 2785 Cabot Dr., St 101, Corona, CA 92883
• 3525 Carson St., St 161, Torrance, CA 90503
• 155 5th Sreet, St 183, Huntington Beach, CA 92648
• 2401 Park Avenue, Tustin, CA 92782
• 474 Broadway, San Diego, CA 92101

*All images are courtesy of RA Sushi Bar & Restaurant. With special thanks to RA Sushi’s PR & Marketing Coordinator Stacia Schacherer for providing me with all information to complete this post.

When I was three or four, my mom once asked me what relationship was the most important in life. I said friendship. She wasn’t happy. She wanted to hear that the mother-and-child love was the most important, to which I explained that mother and child should treat each other like friends, with respect and trust and so on, thereby making the relationship a friendship. For all these years, my mom has been my best friend, but I’ve had other amazing friendships too. Some last, some don’t. Some fade, some strengthen. Some are built over the world wide web, some are formed through sleepless nights struggling over assignments. You know what the best thing about non-family friends is? You get to choose them. You get to hang out with people who are different from you, but mix so well with you, like salt and lemon. Or how about this, like yogurt and meat?

Iskender kebab - lamb and beef on fried pide bread with yogurt

What are you smoking, Mai, yogurt and meat? Yep. Yogurt and thin slices of döner (beef and lamb), blanketing a bed of dice butter-roasted pide bread (the Turkish name of pita bread). It is carnivore festival. If you ever feel like you are ready to chow down a cow in two minutes, Middle Eastern restaurants are the place to roll. They beat Texas BBQ houses by miles in the blunder of sheer meat.  BBQ houses at least try to give you a salad (with dressing, but still), a few starchy objects like toasts and buns, a side or two of cole slaw, green bean, corn, or whatever skimmishly healthy. The Persians smirk at such disguise. If you want meat, you get meat, either in a giant ball or in a giant mount. The doner overwhelms any trace of pide bread there might have been. Then the refreshingly sour yogurt overwhelms the doner, turning the fibrous meaty texture into a shivering juicy touch. The combination is like a racist joke among friends, you know it isn’t right, but you laugh anyway because it’s wickedly funny.

Meze-tabagi (mixed appetizer)

Anyhow, to temper the protein surplus, our group order a veggie appetizer plate to share. The meze tabagi (mixed meze) has seven constituents, clockwise from the lemon wedge: Tabuli (a mix of diced green onion, tomatoes and herbs), Ezme (minced tomatoes, red pepper, walnuts and herbs), dolma (spiced rice wrapped in grape leaves), Patlican Salata (smashed eggplant salad with onion and bell pepper), Pirasa (leeks, carrots, rice and onion), Taze Fasulye (green beans), and Humus (mashed chickpeas and sesame paste). All seven mixes except the humus are seasoned with olive oil and lemon juice. All are amazingly tasty on pide bread, especially the eggplant.

All we have up to this point is, literally, a sour meal. Lemon juice in the appetizer, yogurt in the entree. Then we order baklava for dessert. You know how a cookie tastes after you suck on a lemon wedge, right? Extra sweet. Like eating a brick of brown sugar. So my friend damps the sucrose flood by some bitter black coffee. A strong, nice mix.

Baklava and coffee

Address: Istanbul Grill (in the Village area around Rice University)
5613 Morningside Drive
Houston, TX 77005
(713) 526-2800
(Double parking is allowed/necessary, so don’t be surprised when a waiter asks to move your car to let another customer drive out of the lot.)

Other Persian restaurants I’ve visited:
1. Cafe Renaissance downtown Palo Alto
2. Alborz restaurant on Center Street, Berkeley
3. Azerbaijan Cuisine on Fulton Street, Berkeley

Mini steam buns, as big as a clementine, stuffed with interesting fillings, sold like hotcakes at a mini store inside the Bellaire Hong Kong Mall. Well, they are essentially hot cakes after all.

TP Banh Bao have many kinds of banh bao, but most were sold out by midday when we got there. We were lucky enough to get 3 different kinds: seafood (đồ biển), taro and pork (khoai môn thịt), and original, i.e. pork and chinese sausage (thập cẩm). However, we couldn’t tell which was which. They put them in the same box, no marking, the bun skin and the innards looked the same for all three kinds. They also tasted the same. Good, but indistinguishable.

On the door is an exciting advertisement of their specials: deep fried banh bao and deboned chicken wings, but few seem to come here for those. I’d imagine even fewer would come here for bun bo Hue, mi Quang, chao long (offal porridge) and chao ca (fish porridge). It’d be just as funny if McDonald serves spaghetti.

A box of 9 banh bao sets back your bank anywhere between $7 -14. Although a little pricey, these bite-size buns make a reasonable, savory but not so fatty snack, maybe breakfast if you eat three or four.  I’m curious about the sweet kinds, with mung bean paste and either coconut or durian.

Address: T.P. Banh Bao (inside HongKong Mall, near Banh Cuon Tay Ho #18)
11209 Bellaire Blvd
Houston, TX 77072
(281) 988-7667

While you’re in the Hong Kong Mall area, check out the butter-fried soft shell crab at Tay Do restaurant.