Flavor Boulevard

My junior year of high school was my first year ever in America, and I was still learning the rope of living here, high school dance among other things. A friend invited me to Homecoming. For the pre-dance dinner, he talked about going to a Vietnamese restaurant named Mai in Houston. I didn’t know exactly where it was or what it was (this was 2002, Google Maps and Yelp didn’t exist), but I thought that was considerate of him. In the end, we went to a steakhouse instead, I thought it was because Mai was a bit too far away, and I was left wondering what Mai was like.

A few years later, my host parents mentioned Mai again in passing conversation, and suggested we went together sometime. The place, dated back to 1978, is known as the very first Vietnamese restaurant in Houston, and pretty much every Houstonian knows at least its name. My parents and I were interested, but again, days passed and we forgot. One day in early 2010, news came that the restaurant had been destroyed by a fire. We sighed, somewhat regretful.

Luckily, it reopened. I forget how and when we came to know of its re-opening, but this summer, we decided that as Houstonians, it’s about time we should check this off the list.

As usual, my mom told me to order anything I want, and I did. But I overdid myself, and we struggled to finish a few plates fast enough to have room on the table for the next plate. It was a marathon. The portion was dinosaur-mongous. The three of us packed half of the food home.

APPETIZERS:

This plate was the first to be move out of the way. Guess what I poured on my dress? The garlic butter sauce. I smelled “good” for the rest of the day.

Yes, this is an appetizer, although the bowl can probably fit me in it.

ENTREES:

This one is to be wrapped in rice paper, which my mom artfully put on her bowl like a mini table cloth (the first picture).

DESSERTS:

One of those extremely common desserts in Vietnam that you never see in American Vietnamese restaurants. This one is good (but I like my version better ^_^).

Mai’s menu has a lot of stuff, but nothing strayed from the usuals that you would see at any Vietnamese restaurant in town. Although few things jump out at me, anything that we ordered tastes exactly how we want them to. They make traditional Vietnamese food in the honest, straightforward traditional manner, with abundance to boost, which is also characteristic of Vietnamese food. Their home-styled comfort delivered, and we wouldn’t ask for anything better.

Mai’s Restaurant is at 3403 Milam Street, Houston, TX 77002 – (713) 520-5300

Let me first get this off my chest: I hate restaurants with low lighting (e.g., Burma Superstar and Bistro Liaison), red lights (e.g., Thanh Long and Mission Chinese), and yellow lights (Gather). Why can’t we have nice white neon lights? I don’t go there to film romantic dinner scenes or deal drugs under the table. I go there to eat food, I want to be able to see the true colors of what I’m eating, and I want to take good pictures of them. Is that really too much to ask?

Okay. On to the next business. A lot of people ask me what my favorite restaurant in Berkeley is. I can’t answer that. It’s like asking me who’s my favorite friend. But if you ask me where I would take someone out to dinner, I have a few cards to deal depending on what that person likes. If they like grilled meat and interesting food, I recommend Ippuku. If they’re vegetarian, I take them to Gather.

That said, unlike the consistently good Ippuku, Gather gives me ups and downs. My first experience with Gather in March 2010 was lovely (minus the terrible lighting). Subsequent visits were unmemorable, except for an oversized French toast that was way too sweet to finish even half. Just as I started to think meh another one bites the dust, Gather wows me with a few incredible dishes to prompt a write-up. That, and I think I should at least try to have some colored pictures of its food to complement my black-and-white review last time.

The seaweed that was paired with the fennel was of the Sargassum type, where a bite into the champagne-grape-like bubbles releases a burst of seashore flavor that did not belong. The purees are balanced and exceptional, with a floral hint of high-quality olive oil.

That reminds me, at Gather, bread and olive oil is available only upon request; of course, we requested, not just once but twice. The first time, our waiter brought us 4 slices, we finished it in a jiffy, the second time, he brought 8 slices. 😀 He was also incredibly patient when I asked “what gives the green color?”, “which one is the nukazuke?” and a dozen other questions. You know, the typical annoying foodie behavior.

This dish has everything I like: kampachi, squid ink, seaweed, citrus. The sea lettuce is mild and crunchy, the fish chewy, the squid ink, olive oil and lemon juice engage the plant kingdom and the animal kingdom in a harmonious dance in circle.

The design is a rocky shore with seaweed, fish and foam, I get that. But just because the plate depicts the sea, it doesn’t mean it should taste like the sea. The potato is too salty. The seaweed, once again, needs more prep work to tone down the seaside taste. But the lingcod filet was perfectly pan-fried, crispy on the outside and moist inside.

Of course, we wouldn’t go without desserts, and the desserts at Gather show a great deal of restraint: not too sweet, not too chocolatey to overwhelm the cardamom scent, not too tart either. I like that kind of balance. That night, my friend and I were most drawn by the sea lettuce smoked kampachi and the lingcod precisely because of their balance. Although Gather’s execution of seaweed left much to be desired, the “vegan charcuterie” also remained a reliable inspiration.

Address: Gather
2200 Oxford Street
Berkeley CA 94704
(510) 809-0400
www.gatherrestaurant.com

The best food always rains on me when I least expect it. Who would have thought that Koto, the only Japanese restaurant in the landlocked Sonora west of Yosemite, could have such fresh sushi and perfectly crisp and seasoned saba shio? I didn’t bring my camera that day, and the next time we went the restaurant was closed. My blogging conscience doesn’t allow me to post without pictures, but Koto made such a pleasant impression that I had to write about it somewhere. So here it is: a guide to Yosemite in the Travel Issue of the Daily Cal.

If I ever run past this town again with enough time for lunch, I’ll run in and order two days worth of food, take pictures, and  post them here. (UPDATE on July 15, 2014: I came back yesterday and guess what, it was closed AGAIN!!!!! Because they close all day on Mondays. >__>) It’s hard enough to find a Japanese-own Japanese restaurant in San Francisco, yet there’s one in this little bitty button of a town next to a mountain range.

Address: Koto
70 West Stockton St
Sonora, CA 95370
(209) 532-7900

On the western edge of Yosemite National Park is a little town called Sonora. In Sonora there is Koto, the only Japanese restaurant in a 38-mile radius. In Koto, I had saba shio for the first time. It’s a grilled mackerel seasoned with salt, squeeze on some lemon juice if you like. I love homey things like that, especially when it’s so good I wanted it again the next day, but Koto was closed on Sundays. We left on Monday, with a hole in my heart.

Now before I go to any Japanese restaurant, I check if it has saba shio.

Not many do, but Kaneyama does. Only as an appetizer (which means half a mackerel instead of the whole fish) but better than nothing. A delicious crunching sound broke the air as Little Mom broke the skin with her chopsticks. We knew at that instant that the saba shio was the best dish of the day.

The gindala appeared fancier, took longer time to prepare, and I liked the moist, dense, almost doughy flesh of the black cod, but the miso glaze was too sweet. The spinach goma ae, another common Japanese sidedish that I was only recently introduced to and was eager to show Little Mom, didn’t impress her too much because the sesame sauce could also use more salt and less sugar.

I was surprised to see okonomiyaki on the menu, however described as a seafood pancake. Feeling demanding for no good reason, I asked the waitress if they could add pork belly, but no luck. 🙁 I was even more surprised when the okonomiyaki was brought to me: instead of the usual round shape I’m used to, this one is two quarters of dough on an oval hot plate, the kind you see with dak bokkeum at Korean restaurants, with copious amount of mayonnaise and katsuobushi (at least this part is familiar). I don’t know where the seafood in “seafood pancake” was. Even the cabbage was scarce. Final verdict: I make better okonomiyaki. 😉

Luckily, Little Mom’s udon with shrimp tempura and Dad’s curry rice with tonkatsu, looking unassuming as they were, actually tasted good. I’m glad, you know, cuz I actually wanted to like this restaurant. Sure, its food needed some fixing to live up to its posh setting, and the saba shio was not as good as the one I had at Koto in that little town Sonora. But I did order things off the beaten path (should have gotten sushi maybe?), and the waitress was cute.

For dessert, I tried my luck again and asked for black sesame ice cream, although it’s not listed on the menu. But Kaneyama is no In ‘n Out with a hidden menu, the manager said no, adding “That was the first time I got this question. Not many people know about it.” Guys, next time you’re at a Japanese restaurant, ask for sesame ice cream.

Speaking of ice cream, today I realized that I have become a sea urchin of a customer. I asked questions, and returned the wrong scoop of ice cream to the kitchen, although Little Mom said it was fine. (The right scoop turned out to be her favorite and the best flavor. I did something right, Mom 😉 ) In another year will I be sending back a medium well steak when I had asked for medium? (On a few occasions, I thought of sending back pork sausages that weren’t properly defrosted and still a bit pink inside. But I just didn’t eat the sausage.) What will I be then… a durian?

Address: Kaneyama
9527 Westheimer Suite D
Houston, TX 77063
(713) 784-5168
www.kaneyama-houston.us

Lunch for three: $67.76

Little Mom likes Houston because it’s big, I’ve grown to like Berkeley because it’s so tiny I can get around without a car. Little Mom likes our big garden where she can grow 20 trees and who knows how many rose bushes, I’m content with my little dried-plum-container-turned-flower-pot in which I grow my onion. Point is, Little Mom likes big things, and I, well, sometimes like and most of the time don’t mind small things. But as often as she likes big restaurants, Little Mom likes little Cafe Du Bois in Kingwood.

It makes me feel better than if I had liked Cafe Du Bois myself. The joy when you pick out a place and your company likes it, the more important the company to you the bigger the joy, and to top that with a company of people with sensitive, rarely pleased tastebuds, it feels like winning the lottery. And here my mom suggested that we should go to Cafe Du Bois again.

She likes it for the roasted red snapper on rice with a light cream and tomato basil sauce, for being a mere 10 minutes from our house, for the slow, peaceful air of a little French restaurant way in the back of Kingwood Town Center – two old men finished eating before us, us, and another old man who was about to get his order after sipping wine for 30 minutes as we were waiting for our check seemed to be the only customers at lunch that Sunday. The carrot sauce was not too impressive, but she likes the fried yucca. She likes some of many paintings for sale on the walls. The bread was great. She likes the peach carnations on the white table cloths. She loves the creme brulee.

I remember the spinach and strawberry salad being a hair too sweet, the crab cake sandwich a bit dry, the shrimp primavera pretty cheesy. But you know what, Little Mom’s red snapper was good. So I like Cafe Du Bois.

Address: Cafe Du Bois
2845A Town Center Circle West
(Kingwood Town Center)
Kingwood, Texas 77339
(281) 360-2530

Lately I think I’ve reached a wall in terms of Korean food. To be precise, the Korean food that I can get my hands on, i.e., in the Bay and in Houston. Every Korean restaurant here, in strikingly similar manner to Vietnamese restaurants, has the same menu as every other Korean restaurant. The menu may contain a hundred things, but it boils down to maybe ten, with tiny variations.

To be blunt, I’m bragging that I can name practically every dish on a Korean menu in the States. The novelty is gone. Little knowledge is left to obtain. But just as I don’t stop going to Vietnamese eateries altogether, I still like to share a big Korean meal with Mom and Dad. A bubbling jeongol, rice and banchan always give the familiarity that a Western meal cannot.

That said, there are a few things that I’m still not used to, such as the scissors. The lady was cutting up the crabs and octopus with big black scissors. I admit their convenience, but I get the weird feeling that she is cutting flowers. Why? I don’t know. Anyway, I didn’t eat the crabs because I don’t care for crabs, but I like the octopus. I think I might prefer octopus to squid. The broth is also just right.

The banchan is standard, but they include two fried fish for every order of jeongol. Little Mom likes fried fish. 🙂

The soondubu with tripe and intestine is also nice: soft tofu in contrast with crunchy tripe and chewy intestine. Well, Tofu Village would not live up to its name if its soondubu wasn’t good.

The jajangmyeon is a slight disappointment, compared to the one at Daddy and Daughter‘s in the H-Mart food court. The sauce is not sweet enough. Being served in an inox bowl makes it lose its heat too quickly. The noodles are also too thick.

One thing that I try here without having tried before is the “nutrition rice”, which is blackish purple rice (nếp than) with walnuts, dried jujubes, peanuts, and two yellow nuts whose name I don’t know. I like white rice because like water, white rice keeps your palates clean for the other dishes, but not only is this nut-mixed rice fun to eat, it also deems the mackerel and the kimchi unnecessary.

The biggest identifier of Tofu Village must be the celebrity posters on the wall. At least that’s how Aaron and I knew that we were talking about the same Korean restaurant when he mentioned that his group has a new place to frequent. Would I frequent it myself? The name “Tofu Village” does sound a little Americanized, and I can’t say that everything I ordered was stellar, but to be fair, what I ordered were not the common dishes that people order at a Korean restaurant here. Naturally, the chefs would be more comfortable with what they expect the customers to get. So next time I’ll get something more standard, with tofu. 😉

Address: Tofu Village (두부 촌)
9889 Bellaire Blvd #303
Houston, TX 77036

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

For the past few days we’ve been behind the wheels from dawn to dust, making our way across three time zones. In the first, we happen to stumble upon the best seafood restaurant in Salinas, or so they claim.

Sitting on a corner lot on Main Street in a peaceful little hometown of John Steinbeck and fewer than 150000 people, Salinas Valley Fish House looks homely attractive with an old-fashioned bistro touch. Little Mom instantly gives an approval nod as she walks into the spacious dining room, seeing fresh flowers on white cloth tables, and Santa hats on the fishes. It opens for lunch only during the week, good thing we drive by on a Friday.

Despite being in a seafood restaurant in a seaside town, Little Mom fixates on an order of pork chop ($13.95), oak grilled, medium, no condiments. First time I see her liking a pork chop other than her (awesome) own. 🙂

Mudpie and I also set out for some grilled deals…

From the sea, a half order of snapper…

And a half order of calamari steak, which looks exactly the same as the snapper fillet. Mai prefers the squid’s soft yet springy and compact texture to the fish’s flakiness, while both has a lovely smoky touch of the grill.

Dad branches out of the pack and goes for linguine lightly dressed in a butter garlic sauce with sauteed clam in shell ($13.95). The gentle chewiness pretty much hits the spot.

About an hour past our usual dinner time and a hopelessly lonely drive through the foggy and mountainous Los Padres National Forest, we reach Santa Clarita, make a few loops and turns to figure out the entrance to the parking lot of La Quinta Inn, and have no strength left to look for a dining exoticus. International House Of Pancakes sounds more appealing than anything else with a big sign visible from the highway.

This time Little Mom turns around and orders a grilled tilapia, the new addition to IHOP menu. Understandably, it’s just alright. They don’t claim to be an IHOF anyway.

But she does get overwhelmed by the amount of food, including two crumbly buttery pieces of toasts and a cheesy potato soup, which Dad has to finish instead of his giant big steak omelette.

The other man in the quartet takes off more healthily on an International Crepe Passport with fresh fruit crepe, two bacon strips, two sausages, and two fried eggs…

… while the usual meat-eater now opts for a vegetarian plate: four Swedish crepes with lingonberries and lingonberry butter. The crepes here are thicker than those at Millbrae Pancake House, and the butter is not as fruity either, but what counts at that hour is how it satisfies our rumbly tumbly. And it does. All 4 orders for $36.72 and 20 minutes wait.

Address: Salinas Valley Fish House
172 Main Street
Salinas, CA 93901
(831) 775-0175

IHOP
24737 Pico Canyon Rd.
Stevenson Ranch, CA 91381
(661) 254-1537

No.

The red snapper at Anh Hong Berkeley is thoroughly coated with caramelized sugar and fish sauce, but its flaky flesh stays dry like terracotta tiles. The seawater has rooted too deeply in each fiber to blend with the sweetness. Salmon would be even worse.

Experience says bitter lá lốt can be tamed, but only fresh water fish, like catfish, can make a clay pot sing.

There are two types of fish that you are guaranteed to find in American diners: catfish and salmon. Catfish is almost always filleted, battered and fried. Salmon is either grilled or smoked. Because the choices are so unlimited, I never order them. And this is the prime example of what you would miss out if you stick to your prejudice: had it not been because of Vân, I wouldn’t have had a tasty salmon burger and a tasty salmon-on-baguette today.

Nation’s Giant Hamburger (NGH) is a small local chain spanning the Greater Bay Area, serving burgers, breakfast, hot dogs, and also pies. Of the 24 locations, Berkeley’s NGH on University is a little oasis of the ’80s rural: small dusty parking lot with old cars, highly-walled-up booths in dark colors, the smell of fries and oil and the grill twirled with the smell of old people and homeless people and unkempt teenage boys, the pies fluffed with whipped cream in glass cabinets, the chili, the wallpaper, the red and white theme. It doesn’t speak clean. It isn’t cheap either, a third-pounder costs anywhere between $3.70 to $5.70, depending on the type of meat and if you add cheese or bacon. When in mood for burgers, I would definitely choose Burger King over NGH. But King doesn’t have salmon, Giant does.

I want my grilled wild Alaskan patty with 2 slices of American cheese (60 cents), mayo, no mustard, no onion, and no pickle. It comes out to $5.55 with a distinctive smell of the legless animal, dripping tomato juice, and big folds of iceberg lettuce. I don’t know if it is my little expectation for fish burger or the amazing talent of the chef, but the fish taste and texture couldn’t have been better enhanced.

For dinner, the salmon again surprises me through the hand of Monsieur Alain at La Bedaine, North Berkeley. Layered between halves of a rough, concrete baguette, on top of thinly sliced red radish, cucumber, tomato, a few spinach leaves, and smeared with feta cheese, the smoked salmon shines like amber and tastes like silk. In terms of food, I always prefer legged animals to legless ones, but this salmon sandwich boasts mouthfuls of superiority over the boar terrine sandwich (ground boar meat and fat in sausage form, also on baguette).

Thank you, Vân, for suggesting Salmon today. 🙂 Happy birthday! 🙂

Addresses:
Nation’s Giant Hamburger
1800 University Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94703 – (510) 843-7326
La Bedaine
1585 Solano Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94707 – (510) 559-8201