Dumpling Diversion: Momos and Mo' Momos from Red Chilli and Binita's Kitchen

Chicken Momos from Red Chilli

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled across new Tenderloin restaurant Red Chilli, self-identified as an Indian Nepalese restaurant, in its "Grand Opening" phase. I had just eaten lunch, so I filed it in my now-faulty memory banks.  It was only when it showed up in Yelp's New Business Openings listing today that I remembered I had forgotten about it. Did it have momos on the menu? Yes indeed, and since I am on a perennial momo hunt I decided to check it out at lunchtime.

Momos are Tibetan-Nepalese-Bhutanese dumplings with meat or vegetarian fillings that come in a variety of shapes and sizes and are analogous to a number of Chinese dumplings. Red Chilli's hand-made momos come in the familiar crescent shape similar to Japanese gyoza or (some) Chinese jiaozi/pot stickers, and a choice of chicken or vegetarian filling is offered. (Red Chilli serves Halal food, and all entrees are either vegetarian, chicken, or lamb). They come ten to an order, accompanied by a house-made dipping sauce.  Together with a small bowl of lentil soup, an order of Red Chilli momos made for a substantial lunch.


Red Chilli's momos reminded me of those I've had at a number of places in New York's Jackson Heights, where crescent-shaped dumplings seem to prevail; Binita Pradhan (see below) tells me this is the traditional Tibetan style.  The nicely spiced, finely minced chicken filling and slightly chewy thin wrappers brought back memories of 74th & Roosevelt, and I'd say that Red Chilli's were as good as any I've had in Queens.  The house dipping sauce, too, may be the best I've had with this style of momos. Red Chilli's momos are as good an introduction to Tibetan-style momos as you are likely to find in San Francisco. There are a lot of other items to try on Red Chilli's menu, of course, and I plan to return for more. The menu includes useful explanations of items, and Nepalese specialties are flagged.

My momo lunch put me in the mood to drop by Off the Grid: Fort Mason Center to say hello to my Nepali friend Binita of Bini's Kitchen, and maybe talk momos.  She, of course, twisted my arm and I ended up with an order of her turkey momos for an early dinner.  Bini's Kitchen's hemispheric momos were the traditional Nepali shape, she said, and she prefers them because they hold more filling (confirmed by what I recall from my 10th grade Solid Geometry class). The amount of filling in eight of Bini's bigger, more pillowy dumplings exceeded that of the ten crescent shaped ones from Red Chilli, and was just as savory. If I had one request, it would be a little more spice heat in the orange sauce that topped the Bini's Kitchen Momos.

In New York I once sampled the momos at four different establishments, all in a short walking distance  from the same subway station, in the course of an afternoon. They were smaller servings, I recall six to eight per plate. That feat is not possible in San Francisco, but with 10 momos at lunch and 8 larger ones at dinner, I came damn close today.



Where noshed: Red Chilli, 522 Jones Street, San Francisco; Binita's Kitchen, Off the Grid: Fort Mason Center, San Francisco

Ddukbokki Etc. At Aria Korean American Snack Bar (And Yes, We're Talking Noodles Here)

An earlier version of this post appeared in part in my other blog.  It occurred to me only tonight, while enjoying some Korean fried chicken along with a bowl of ramyun at Aria, that the tubular pasta used in ddukbokki emphatically are, in fact just big, fat rice noodles and worthy of Full Noodle Frontity's stage.

Ddukbokki (as fun to eat as it is to spell out) from Aria Korean-American Snack Bar is a recently discovered spicy treat for me. Aria is a mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall that opened about a year ago in the space that held the venerable Old Chelsea Fish and Chips shop for nearly 50 years. Every time I've walked by it I have vowed to try the ddukbokki, dowel-shaped rice pasta akin to Shanghainese nian gao (which usually takes the form of flat slices), served in a spicy sauce, and finally got around to it a month ago. I had only had one previous ddukbokki experience, on the streets of Shanghai, of all places, and it was disappointing. The pasta was under-cooked and the sauce tasted mostly of catsup and was only slightly spicy). The Koreans had to do it better, I theorized. at Aria, I ordered the ddukbokki and an order of fried mandoo, the Korean version of jiaozi/gyoza. I wasn't disappointed. The ddukbokki had great body, firm and chewy, but not jaw-crampingly so. They came in a savory soup-like bath in a shallow dish. The sauce was honestly spicy and so good one could slurp it as soup, which I did, until the chili heat got to be too much. The ddukbokki at Aria definitely belongs in the comfort food department, especially if a moderate spiciness is in your comfort zone.

The shop itself is a joy, though tiny. There's barely room for two four-top tables and a two-top of sorts, so Aria does mostly a takeout business, like its predecessor establishment. It's not only the very definition of a hole-in-the-wall, it's also literally a mom-and-pop enterprise, with a beaming mom doing the cooking and polite, mellow pop taking the orders and manning the cash register.  I returned tonight to sample the snack bar's real raison d'être, KFC (which means Korean fried chicken hereabouts). With a side of spicy-sweet dipping sauce and the accompanying pickled daikon, it was as good as has been bruited about but that's a matter for another blog. I ordered it with a bowl of ramyun ("Korean ramen" on the menu).  This turned out to be underwhelming, little more than a bowl of instant noodles (most likely Nong Shim brand) gussied up with some fresh onion tops and perhaps some ancillary spicing. But not to worry; with ddukbokki designated a noodle dish by (my) decree, Aria Korean American Snack Bar has noble noodles to recommend it.

Where slurped: Aria Korean American Snack Bar, 932 Larkin St., San Francisco

God of Thunder Brings Affordable Ramen To Taraval Street

It's called Raijin Kitchen, but wants to roll off my lips as Ragin' Cajun, which is understandable since raijin means God of Thunder in Japanese (no crawdads here, though).  It opened on Taraval St. in the Parkside about a week ago in the space that formerly held a gelato and crepe shop. Raijin Kitchen serves ramen and Japanese curry, and is located in the middle of what I see as becoming a noodle and dumpling corridor stretching from House of Pancakes and Shandong Deluxe on the east, to Kingdom of Dumplings on the west. (I can dream, can't I?)

[Update: I found a Facebook page for Raijin Kitchen, which reveals that Raijin Kitchen is a sister restaurant to Men Oh Tokushima Ramen and Waraku Ramen, both of which I've blogged about before.]

Raijin Kitchen has the feel of a real ramen-ya. It's tiny, with a limited menu and a focus on ramen. You walk in, place your order, pay up and take a seat and wait for your noodles to be brought to you. Yes, there are some curry dishes, sides and beverages, but no up-sell.  It's a place you can feel comfortable sitting down with just a friggin' bowl of ramen to commune with.

There are four ramen choices on Raijin's menu: Raijin Ramen, Tan Tan Men, Curry Ramen, and shoyu ramen. I ordered the Raijin Ramen (presumably the house special), which turned out to be a tonkotsu ramen, with perhaps a bit of shoyu blended in (it was a shade darker than a typical tonkotsu broth, though there was no telltale soy sauce saltiness that I could detect).  The broth was as thick as any I have experienced, almost gravy-like, and to make the dish even heavier, the chashu was in the form of a whole mountain of streaky pork belly (look at the cross-section and you'll see bacon). This is definitely a cool weather ramen, made for the Sunset for days like today when it was chilly at 23rd & Taraval even while hot downtown. The broth overall was rich, though not cloyingly so, and very filling.  The noodles, on the large side for ramen noodles, were not quite as chewy as I would like, but not a disaster, by any measure.

Perhaps the best thing about Raijin Kitchen is its pricing. If you are tired of forking out $12 or more for a bowl of noodles, take heart: nothing on the menu is more than $7.95, including my house special Raijin Ramen, and two of the ramen choices are a dollar cheaper.  That alone will get me back to try the other ramen options.

Where slurped: Raijin Kitchen, 1353 Taraval Street (across  from McCoppin Square), San Francisco.