Flavor Boulevard

While turkey, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole (which I haven’t had in years and REALLY want some) make up the traditional Thanksgiving feast, I will keep up the tradition of posting something different for Thanksgiving (like duck and avocado pie). Not necessarily better, just something different, because no Thanksgiving dinner is the same, right? 🙂

So here it is: the fried chicken stuffed with fried sweet rice at Yum’s Bistro in Fremont.

Known on the menu as “crispy chicken with flavored sweet rice”. The sweet rice (sticky rice) with diced bits of Chinese sausage, chicken, shrimp and mushroom are made into fried rice the normal way, then stuffed into the chicken skin – a fully intact continuous chicken skin from head to leg – which is then fried or broiled. How they skin the chicken, I’m not too sure, this dish may only be feasible to make at home if you’re a chef… but it looks interesting, and it tastes GREAT.

Like the Thanksgiving dinner, this chicken fools you into thinking you can eat more than you actually can. Two of those sections (any section) on the chicken would be plenty in one sitting because that fried sticky rice is compact steel.

When Oanh and Dang took me to Yum’s Bistro, there was a middle-aged man (presumably a regular customer) standing outside (presumably to wait for someone), who cheerily told us in the typical friendly way of old Chinese men that everything’s good at Yum’s. Oanh readily agreed, she has been here several times, each time trying a few new dishes AND the stuffed chicken. I agreed soon after I tasted the squab.

Of course, when did I ever say no to grilled game?

Beef claypot (12.50), Western China style, I believe, because of the prominent cumin flavor.

Hong Kong Spicy Crab (seasonal and no price was listed). It says “spicy” and looks spicy but it really isn’t anything more than a hint of pepper. The salt and spice mixed with which they generously coated the crab makes you want to lick the shell more than actually eating the meat.

Almond milk and egg white dessert (Chef’s special and pre-order is recommended, also no price was listed?!). Oanh wasn’t a fan because she’s sensitive to bitterness – there’s a faint bitter aftertaste at the back of your tongue if you really search for it, but I like some types of bitter when it’s also sweet (hello, bitter melon and tea! 😀 ), so I’m a fan.

Near the end, the chef walked out to each table to greet the customers. We thanked him and smiled to our ears, he smiled back and nodded, I don’t think he knows much English. That’s all good, of course, he’s happy to make food, we’re happy to eat it, we understood each other just fine. 🙂

Address: Yum’s Bistro
4906 Paseo Padre Parkway
Fremont, CA 94555
(510) 745-8866 (if you want to pre-order the Chef’s specials)
website and menu

Pretty is the right word. Hearsay, or “Heresy” as Aaron calls it for some reason, warms your senses with a large yellow glass chandelier dangling several meters above the bar. The old walls, now lined with artsy thin bricks, bring to mind the image of a mahogany cascade from the high ceiling; tiny specs of light from the chandelier reflect off them like a meteor shower. It feels like a church almost. The only thing that could be remotely heretic here, if you understand “heretic” in its broadest meaning of “being different”, is if you don’t drink and you’re dining with a group of alcohol-appreciating friends just five feet from an alcohol-sparkling bar. Which is exactly what I was doing.

But I found plenty of things to occupy myself with, taking pictures of food being one of them, which would not have been possible without the flash light from Harshita’s iPhone (there was practically no light beside the chandelier). Eating was another possible activity. Our group of odd number managed to share the even number of pieces in the Chef Nick’s Appetizer Plate without too much a fight: the beer-batter-fried asparagus is the easiest to share, one shrimp-and-chicken spring rolls is doable, two crawfish stuffed mushroom and three smoked salmon crostini looked impossible to divide, so we didn’t try.

Except for my cute little stuffed mushrooms having a hair too much salt, every entree tasted as good as it should. Another exception was Varun’s chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese and spinach, which looks exactly like a kolache (already a good point!). That one blew my mind. I won’t look down on all chicken breast anymore.

I don’t know how Varun found this little 123-year-old building-turn-restaurant in the middle of the Warehouse District, but I’m glad he did. It feels unlike any gastro pub I’ve been to, you’re crammed horizontally as people push through between you and the bar seats, but you can always look up and find yourself lost in the space under that super high ceiling. You can order a humongous hamburger with bacon and a fried egg, or go simple and fresh with a caprese salad. You can indulge in as much bread pudding with ice cream as you want, all alone in the dark.

Click to see more pictures from Hearsay.

Address: Hearsay Gastro Lounge
218 Travis Street
Houston, Texas 77002
(713) 225-8079

Sometimes things just refuse to go the way you plan.

I’ve been looking forward to the fried chicken at this place called Number 1 Chicken Rice & Seafood for half a year. It’s in Houston, so I have two time windows each year, each a couple of weeks long, to plan my voyage. Last winter we hit the place less than an hour after they closed (which was like 8 pm, I think), this June we were even more determined. According to Aaron’s sources, they open on Sunday between 6 and 7 pm. Strange, but okay. We camped out at the museum for over an hour because the museum is relatively near Number 1 Chicken, and we didn’t want to take any chances. At 6 we drove into its parking lot. The OPEN sign wasn’t lit up. Aaron checked the schedule posted on the door: they’re closed on Sunday. Fine. I’m not meant to eat Number 1 Chicken’s fried chicken. Surely there must be other fried chickens somewhere along Alameda. Following Varun’s advanced GPS system that didn’t allow us to type in anything unless the car is stopped (for safety reason, even though the one who punched the buttons wasn’t the driver), we drove to a few more possible-blogging-material spots, one of them no longer exists. And all of them were closed. We weren’t even meant to eat on Alameda?!

Accepting fate, we gave up on Alameda and headed back to the Rice Village, Aaron’s “hunting ground”. Between Picky Varun and Picky Mai, we settled into El Meson. Cuban.

Here we were in this pretty good-looking Latin American place with frescos of flamboyant girls in flamboyant flamenco dresses and a generous bowl of Andes Mint at the front desk, from which we took (quite) a few as we walked in. The guys were wondering if they have free chips and salsa here (you know, like at the usual Tex-Mex resto in your neighborhood strip mall). We were hungry. Well, they do. The chips and salsa came out after we ordered. I was a bit sad that I couldn’t get the paella (minimum order of 2 people, and yet another thing that didn’t go my way that day), so I got two tapas plates.

If you have a sweet tooth like me, and I don’t mean just a liking for dessert but a liking for sweetness in everything from meat to noodle soup(*), El Meson is for you. The plantains are one thing, but the cinnamon pineapple that goes with the crab cakes ($9.95) and the honey-glazed pork belly ($9.95) are sweet enough to be desserts. The crackling skin offered a nice textural contrast, but slices of poached apple didn’t help toning down the sugar.

I liked the plantains in Varun’s Pollo Salteado ($15.95, grilled chicken sauteed with onion and pepper in sherry sauce, served on rice and black beans with a side of grilled plantains), but Varun found them too sweet.

For dessert, we took “some” more Andes Mint. 😉

Address: El Meson
2425 University Blvd.
Houston, TX 77005
(713) 522-9306
Dinner for 3: $65 – For more pictures of our food, see Photon Flavors.

(*) There are many noodle soups with a sweet broth. Not sweet like your banana cream pie but when you taste the first spoon, you’d go “wow this broth is sweet!” Examples are Lao and Cambodian noodle soups (such as hu tiu). One of my favorite ingredients in the Korean mul naengmyun (cold buckwheat noodle soup) is the Asian pear, which is sweet. But it’s nothing new really, all broths need some kind of sweetness, either from bone marrow or from mushroom.

It takes us six years and a cross country drive to set foot into one of the Cracker Barrel, thanks to Mudpie waking up right as a sign comes into view to show which exit to take from I40. (In my defense, Cracker Barrel doesn’t show up in the Bay.)

There are as many people in the store as antique candies on the tables and shelves near the cashier. We put our name on the list, then quickly merge into the buzzing about knick knacks and candles, preparing for a thirty minute wait. A mere ten minutes later our name echoes on the microphone, we get seated near the dining hall entrance, four menus swatted onto the wooden table, the waitress is a little disappointed that we aren’t ready to order yet.

Then it comes our turn to wait for the food, and we play games.

We get the usual Southern flavors: chicken fried chicken with brown gravy, mashed potatoes, fried okras and green beans,…

… and the creamy chicken and dumpling with two side “vegetables“, choosing among cabbage, turnip greens, beans, corn, fried okras, macaroni ‘n cheese, cole slaw, fried apples, and a few others. The fried apples (pictured), almost crystal clear and melting like butter on hot pan, taste like wedges of soft brown sugar, but Little Mom and Mudpie love ’em.

They even say that it’s better than the glazed apples in my cider-braised roast pork shoulder. Mai disagrees. But they can’t deny that the supertender, honey-like pork triumphs today, accented with dried cranberries and pecan bits. Deservingly being an in-store special, it is so good I forget all about my backache and fork right in.

We could consider a fruit cobbler for dessert, however the check comes just as quickly as the food got served. They rush us out for the waiting patrons, which is understandable but makes Cracker Barrel’s atmosphere less countrily charming than Pickett House in Woodville. It turns out there’s a CB ten minutes drive from my parents, busy like a beehive even on Monday, and when it comes to chicken and dumpling, Little Mom decides she prefers CB’s to Pickett House’s. But if it’s country food, I prefer a little country style (and space).

Or perhaps a Goo Goo, “a nourishing lunch”? 😉

Money talk:
1 chicken fried chicken ($8.99) + 2 chicken ‘n dumplings ($7.39/each) + 1 pork roast ($8.99) + tax = $35.05
Address: Cracker Barrel Store #617 (I never saw it before, now I see it everywhere)
5700 Redlands Road N.W.
Albuquerque, NM 87120
(505) 352-5430
Exit 155 from I40

Ketoprak at Jayakarta, Berkeley - warm rice noodle salad with bean sprout, cucumber, shrimp cracker and peanut sauce - $6.25

There is only one on the East Bay, and three in San Francisco. (I don’t count the Asian Fusion stuff and places with, like, one Indonesian noodle salad.) That is just way too few Indonesian restaurants in an area where Asian cookeries sprout like mushrooms after the rain. Historically, the Indonesians have settled here at least 10 years before the Vietnamese, and at about the same time as the Thai. After a few wholesome meals at Jayakarta, it is beyond me why Indonesian food has not gained much popularity in the States.

Take the palm-sugar-smothered rotisserie chicken ayam kalasan. It loses to no other chicken but my mom’s. I’m hooked from the first bite. The sweetness is in eve.ry. single. strand. of meat, it’s tender, it’s firm, it can make me rob a school kid for $7.95 when the craving gone mad.

Mie goreng (left) - $7.95 and Bihun ayam (right) with beef balls - $6.50

Or the chewy bihun (rice noodle) that fares wonderfully both stir fried (mie goreng) or boiled and tossed (bihun ayam) with chicken, shrimp, beef ball, egg, and some crunchy stalks similar to but denser than celery. Also, bihun is better than than bakmi (egg noodle).

Or the subtle, smooth, and compact fingers of pounded fish grilled in banana leaf. The otak-otak panggang reminds me of chả cá and chạo tôm in Vietnam.

Nasi Goreng with chicken (left) -$7.50- and weekend special Nasi Bungkus (right) - $7.95

Or the rice (nasi). Fried rice (nasi goreng), no complaint. Rice served in banana leaf with coconut beef, fried curry chicken, and marinated tofu (nasi bungkus), absolutely no complaint. The egg kills.

And coconut rice (nasi lemak) with ample cubes of chicken, mealy perkedel, and my all-time-favorfish anchovies fried to a crisp.

Or, away from the meaty fried and marinated galore, a gentle bowl of chicken wonton soup (pangsit kuah). So elevating. (I once had this horrid wonton soup when I was six. The wonton was thick and doughy like a blob of mush, the soup was like chicken and dumpling bubbling in lard. I avoided wonton soup ever since. Until now.)

And a glass of fruit jelly, rice, banana and cassava in coconut milk, with shaved ice, for $3.95.

I don’t understand why Thai restaurants outnumber Indonesian ones. Is it the lack of pork? (No.)

Address: Jayakarta Restaurant
2026 University Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94704