Flavor Boulevard

Just a few months ago, only certain people could go inside to inspect the construction, and everyone permitted had to wear hard hats. Now, driving on University, it would be hard to miss the gigantic banner leisurely hung to announce a brand new presence, that was much awaited and is worth every minute of effort put into it. The two physics buildings at A&M are a charm, and doesn’t one of them (left picture) remind you of some famous structure? (Hint: something in New York).

Seven stories high (including the basement for laboratories), the newborn Mitchell Institute now houses the high energy theorists and the astrophysicists, as well as a brass Foucault pendulum complete with a full electronic protractor. Marking a crimson comet tail along its path, the pendulum pridefully swings across the floor, its movement sparks gratification in the eyes of Prof. Edward Fry, the department head. (For comparison, the pendulum at the Houston science museum is tracked by knocking down wooden pegs, much less chance for malfunction and more eco-friendly, I guess?). And just to entertain your scientific mind, every step you make on the first floor is a step on a mathematical pattern, known as Penrose tiling (pictured below). If one tile is misplaced, the whole pattern is destroyed. I wonder if the architect, Michael Graves, had drawn the floor precisely to each tile, to make sure that the construction workers got it right. But I do know that Prof. Glenn Agnolet, the main supervisor of the project, had at least once caught a mistake before it was too late, and that was just among many nameless incidents occurring and overcome in the four-year span of the construction. Each such incident cast an extra amount onto the total cost in this skimming economy, and the generosity of George P. Mitchell alone would not have been able to bring the buildings to completion. Thus, the two buildings bear proofs that Texas A&M physics professors are not only experts in their fields but also charismatic businessmen, proficient managers, and visionary designers.

Fresh and spacious, the interior has an unscathed beauty, with unadorned walls, long hall ways, tall glass windows, offering a full view to my most favorite part: the rooftop garden, which is accessible from the third floor. Give it a few more months, and the now barren poles will be embraced with vines, forming a green canopy. The small trees will grow, the flower beds will thicken. Young birds will make this garden their new homes…

… and young Physics students will aggregate here, with wholesome pride.

Appetizer: green waffle
The batter is flavored with pandan leaf (lá dứa) extract and coconut milk. Mudpie first discovered them at Century Bakery in Little Saigon, San Jose, and that’s where we’ve been getting them since, in increasing amount. The most recent deal is buy 10 get 1 free, warm and prepackaged in a nice paper box. Then I had green waffle for breakfast for 3 days straight. Each waffle is about $1-1.50, rather costly if you think about how a banh mi costs only 2.50. But it’s delicious, fluffy and sweet.

Main course: Mo’s Bacon bar

You can have bacon with breakfast pancakes, and in BLT (bacon-lettuce-tomato) sandwich for lunch, so might as well stuff it into your chocolate for a late night snack, right? The lady who discovered the magic of bacon-chocolate combo had 6 years of culinary study, and she got it right: chocolate goes with everything, and so does salt. The bar isn’t a slab of bacon coated with chocolate (which is kinda what I hoped for). There are only tiny bits of bacon, even more scarce than in a simple salad. An unhealthy dose of smoked salt gives a boost to the milky sweet taste. This chocolate is not extraordinary, but it might be a good gift for those unadventurous eaters (to prove that “crazy” food can be good). Take a look at the list of Vosges’ exotic chocolate bars. Perhaps I’ll tackle them when I see them at Whole Foods, although they are not that exotic except for the names.

Dessert: hibiscus sorbet

After the wonderful engagement with cardamom-rose ice cream, I became a bee with fantasies about flower flavors. The petals are always delicate, their taste swift and light, a safe choice if you want to avoid extremes. So I grabbed this as soon as I saw it at the store. Well, being a sorbet, it lacked the creamy texture of ice cream, and the taste was a bit rusty. I felt a chemically enhanced sweetness in the throat as it passed down. We can never expect too highly of mass production, but again, I haven’t chewed on a hibiscus flower to know what it really tastes like. The sorbet was worth a chat, and I shall not retract my tongue from other floral attractions.

Next on Down the Aisles: Yeast Cookies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Address: Ici
2948 College Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94705

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also read: Second visit at Berkel Berkel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recall: First time at Lemon Grass

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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