Full Noodle Frontity

Sheepish in Suzhou -- the Legend Behind a Lamb Noodle Soup

2012-02-24T21:03:00.000-08:00

I'm a big fan of Chinese lamb noodle soup. ("Lamb," I should point out here, is the usual translation for yangrou, which can also, and in fact usually does in this context, mean mutton.) I generally associate the origins of lamb noodle soup with the cities of China's great midwest -- Lanzhou, Zhengzhou and Xi'an, for instance, not with Shanghai and the Jiangnan region. However, in the course of researching noodle houses in Shanghai I discovered that there are well over a hundred such establishments that self-identify as "Suzhou Lamb Noodle" houses. Moreover, nearly half of these more specifically identify themselves as Suzhou Cangshu lamb noodle establishments. What was this lamb that Suzhou is apparently so proud of? This sent me to Googling and Baidu-ing to educate myself on the matter and I managed to dig up this account.

Cangshu, it turns out, is a town on the outskirts of Suzhou:

"Cang means hiding and shu means books. Apart from its beautiful scenery and gardens, Suzhou is famous for producing scholars. Many famous ancient scholars, writers, poets and painters were born in the area. After the Emperor Qin Shihuang unified China in 221 BC, he became notorious for burning the books of intellectuals and burying Confucians alive. Local tales in Cangshu tell of book burning. Long ago students and scholars there had to bury their books to protect them, and to save their own lives. They dug them up 15 years later when the brief dynasty ended and named the town after their sad experience. Ancients believed that all the plants and trees in the town absorbed the wisdom and the aroma of buried books, through their roots. Local sheep grazing on the wise grasses ingested the wisdom – and that’s why mutton in the town doesn’t have that strong odor."

It's a pretty story, to be sure, that an infusion with the wisdom of the ancients can make gamey meat fragrant, but the author of the cited explanation simply couldn't let well enough alone. Castration, he opines, is the real reason the mutton's flesh isn't gamey.

The picture at the top of this post was captured from this recent video on Youku.com (China's YouTube). It's of a Shanghai TV reporter tracking down the very story of Suzhou's Cangshu lamb, and includes some mouthwatering footage of her slurping down some noodle soup. It's in Chinese, but it's easy to follow the reporter's journey from noodle shop to stockyard to restaurant kitchen. It also includes an immersion in musical Suzhou-inflected Shanghai dialect.

Sampling Chef Hou's Prize-winning Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup

2012-02-09T11:59:00.000-08:00

Given my passion for Lanzhou niurou lamian, it figures that the famous Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup genre is one I'd like to explore further than I have. The problem is that I've never been to Taiwan and can't seem to find any reputedly worthy examples of the style in the Bay Area, and therefore have had no real benchmark for it.

Last night the Asia Society - Northern California presented Chef Hou Chun-sheng, winning chef at the 2011 Taipei International Beef Noodle Soup Festival at a tasting event at l'Olivier Restaurant in San Francisco. After a pitch for tourism by a representative from the Taiwan Trade Office and a warm-up by well-known Bay Area food personality Narsai David (discussing his eating tour of Taiwan), Chef Hou was introduced and presented his and his creation's backgrounds. Hou is a Western-trained chef at Room 18 in Taipei, with a passion for niu rou mian (he plans to open a noodle shop on retirement). He entered the competition on a lark with 188 other entrants, and took the top prize in the most popular of Festival's four categories - Spicy Braised Beef Noodle Soup. Chef's Hou's recipe is somewhat influenced by his Western training, such as his use of tomato paste, and he considers his trump card to be the use of fermented bean curd for the spiciness. He also caused a bit of a stir by allowing as to how he preferred imported American beef because of its lack of grass-fed flavor.

The magic moment came and we were served our bowls of soup. As is obvious from the picture, it had a luxuriant amount of good quality beef, especially in contrast to my beloved Lanzhou style, which uses indifferent beef slices more or less as a condiment. Like a ramen master, Chef Hou even had a plan of attack, which I followed in assessing my bowl:

1) Sip the broth, including a piece of the fresh cut tomato;
2) taste the noodles; and
3) taste the beef.

Also as with ramen, the broth was the elephant in the room, which was probably the intent. It was majestically deep and rich, and less medicinal-tasting than some Taiwanese beef soups I have tasted. There was only a tinge of spice heat to it; I would have risked insulting the chef and added a dab of chili paste had it been available on the table. I'd also fault the temperature, which was on the lukewarm side of hot, though it may have resulted from the logistical problem of serving bowls to the whole room at once, on cue. The beef was tender while maintaining a nice, slightly chewy texture, and had a very, well, beefy flavor. I might have personally preferred a little grass-fed edge to it. The noodles themselves were of the flat linguini-style type, and a little over-cooked to my taste; they may also have been the victim of the same logistical obstacles as the broth. It's also a fault that is easy to overlook in the Imperial presence of a broth like Chef Hou's. I'd love to be served the same bowl of soup in a more intimate, leisurely setting. Hou also mentioned that he contemplated competing in the "Clear Broth" category at a future festival, which I assume would demand an "A" performance from the noodles themselves. I'm guessing he'd come up with something that would really ring my bell.

Chef Hou's recipe for his Spicy Braised Beef Noodle Soup, along with photos of its creation can be found at:

http://www.taiwaninsights.com/2012/01/17/chef-hous-recipe-for-beef-noodle-soup/

Soup Junkie's Bun Rieu Is All it's Cracked Up to Be at Vinyl Wine Bar Pop-up

2012-01-27T20:13:00.001-08:00

Bun rieu from Hung Lam, "Soup Junkie" at Vinyl Wine Bar

The legendary news commentator Wes "Scoop" Nisker liked to urge his KSAN listeners "If you don't like the news, go out and make some of your own." I guess it can also be said "If you don't like the noodles, go out and make some of your own," which seems to be the attitude of one Hung Lam, who calls himself the Soup Junkie. According to Eater San Francisco, Lam did in fact get into making his own soups when he wasn't happy with the ones at local restaurants. Tonight he brought his consummated passion to a pop-up at the Vinyl Wine Bar on Divisadero (all the good stuff happens North of Market, no?), to the good fortune of 40 or 50 people who showed up with noodles on their minds.

I arrived early at the Vinyl Wine Bar and Lam and his sidekick were running a bit late, so I had time to nurse a glass of Raging Bitch IPA (like a good wine bar should, Vinyl also has a nice beer list) and let my anticipation grow for the soupe du jour, bun rieu, a Vietnamese crab and tomato rice noodle soup. My expectations were high, baited by the handout which promised "Fresh Crab Omelette, 6-Hour Crab Tomato Broth, Housemade Pork Meatballs, Curled Water Spinach, Tomatoes, Fresh Herbs, Silky Rice Noodles." Thanks to my early arrival, I was also one of the first to receive my bowl of soup, about 45 minutes after my arrival, while people arriving around that time were told to expect a further hour's wait. .

I had only had bun rieu once before, a version that didn't particularly excite me, and the Soup Junkie's rendition came as a revelation. A first sip of the broth discovered a complex crab-tomato flavor which held up to the bottom of the bowl. The noodles were as springy and toothsome as I have ever experienced in rice noodles. As can be seen in the photo above, the airy crab "omelette" (more like a cross between a souffle and a fritatta) was a generous portion, as was the number of little pork meatballs that slept at the bottom of the bowl, a hearty finish to a very substantial and satisfying soup.

I'm usually annoyed when people describe foods as "crack" but since Hung Lam calls himself a soup "Junkie" I'll stretch the metaphor and say yes, what he's dealing is crack for the noodle lover's palate.

Follow @soupjunkiesf to find out where Mr. Lam will be popping up next.

Where slurped: Vinyl Wine Bar, 359 Divisadero St., San Francisco

Kirimachi Part II, Tonkotsu Ramen

2012-01-26T21:28:00.000-08:00

Tonkotsu ramen with optional corn at Kirimachi

When I reported on the Sapporo-style miso ramen at Kirimachi recently, I promised to return soon to check out the other half of the establishment's two-item ramen menu, tonkotsu ramen. Kirimachi means "Fog City" and TA DA! the fog horns sent me its way today.

Tonkotsu broth, as every ramen nut knows, is made from simmering pork bones. Pork bone broth has a special place in my soup firmament, since pork neck bone stock is the first choice in soup stocks of my Shanghainese wife, though hers is rendered with a gentler alchemy than typical tonkotsu mavens would endorse. Kirimachi's tonkotsu bowl comes with the same set of toppings as their Sapporo miso ramen; I added corn as an extra simply because it had been a long time since I'd eaten corn in any recognizable form. The corn played nicely with the broth and other ingredients (though I'm kicking myself because I hadn't thought off adding it to the chicken-based miso stock on my first visit). I'm happy to say that Kirimachi's tonkotsu broth, like their miso broth, leans toward deftness and subtlety, demonstrating that a tonkotsu broth needn't be as muddy and yellowish as a river in Shaanxi (are you listening, Ajisen?).

I have to confess that at first sip I thought Kirimachi's broth perhaps too subtle until, halfway through the bowl, I realize I had made the mistake of not stirring the soup. (In my defense, there's something about the careful arrangement of toppings in a bowl of ramen than makes stirring counter-intuitive.) In any event, the broth intensified in richness and saltiness as I got closer to the bottom of the bowl, and the analog computer in my taste buds calculated that averaging my first slurps with my last would put something just about right on the bottom line.

But I'll have to go back again and stir to be sure.

Where slurped: Kirimachi, 450 Broadway, North Beach, SF.

Slurp du Jour: Bún bò Huế (redux) at Mangosteen

2012-01-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

Street food options were very limited at the Tet Festival Street Fair in San Francisco's Little Saigon today, so I decided to take my hunger indoors. It was a brisk, windy day and pho ga would have hit the spot, but Turtle Tower had a waiting line so I found a table at Mangosteen and decided to try out their house specialty, Bún bò Huế even though I had reviewed the same dish at Golden Flower a couple of posts ago.

Mangosteen is what you might call hole-in-the-wall moderne, attractive on the outside but somewhat garish internally, with lime-green walls and a purple ceiling. The rear wall is adorned with a blowup of a quote about Vietnamese culture by Mme. Nhu, evocation of whom would be decidedly un-PC a couple of generations ago.

My bowl of Bún bò Huế came pleasantly spicy (despite the usual admonition from the server that it was "very" spicy) and topped with beef, pork and shrimp balls. The broth had a nice depth, rounder in flavor and slightly fattier than that of Golden Flower's, but leaned a tad to the sweet side. The accompanying garnish platter (greens, jalapenos, bean sprouts and lime wedge) was one of the most generous I have seen, almost a "side salad" in size. Overall my soup had more of a distinct personality than the version served by Golden Flower (which seemed more of a variant on the standard pho dishes on their menu than something distinctly regional). I'll also point out that it's a bargain at $6.95 for a more substantial dish than, say, a bowl of ramen, which can scarcely be found for less that $10 these days.

Where slurped: Mangosteen, 601 Larkin St., San Francisco

Kicking off the Noodle Year with Sapporo-style Miso Ramen at Kirimachi

2012-01-10T21:49:00.000-08:00

The Year of the Dragon is approaching, but for me it may be the Year of the Ram....wait for it...en. Ramen has never been my favorite manifestation of wheat flour noodles in soup, being characterized by (in my eyes) overly aggressive murky broths dominating overly delicate noodles; my own preference has been for more muscular la mian exerting its noodlehood in Lanzhou-style clear broths. But I'm succumbing to the siren call of ramen. For one thing, a ramen joint is a place for slurping noodles in solitary contemplation, and that's the way I roll. In this time of economic restructuring and changing dining habits the ramen-ya is also a coming thing, I'm guessing, with more regional styles and ramen skills on the way; I'm getting with the plan, man.

My quest for my first bowl of noodles outside home in the new calendar year took me to Kirimachi. It's a new establishment, barely a month old, in a space shared with a chef producing Creole food. This is an arrangement you might expect in the hipster Mission, except Kirimachi is in the midst of Broadway's stripper row. In its brief existrence Kirimachi has generated a lot of positive buzz among ramen True Believers. It also has the attraction of being the closest ramen shop to my home.

Leonardi, the ramen chef (he's Indonesian but a ramen obsessive who formerly worked for Sanraku) offers just two styles of ramen, tonkotsu and Sapporo-style miso ramen. He also offers one non-noodle dish, currently unagi donburi, but subject to change. The noodles are $10 per bowl, tax included, and topped with a generous amount of chashu, chives, kikurage, sliced fish cake, bean sprouts and a soft boiled egg. Organic meats from Marin Sun Farms are used. Extra toppings are $1 ($2 for extra chashu).

I ordered the Sapporo ramen out of curiosity, having some prior familiarity with tonkotsu broth. The miso broth (made with chicken stock) was rich and salty, but not so overbearing as to overwhelm the noodles, a subtleness that I appreciated. The noodles themselves were cooked perfectly, al dente without being overly chewy. The soft-boiled egg was also cooked just right, with firmly set white and a nicely runny yolk. Overall, it was definitely one of the best bowls of ramen I have experienced, and I'll certainly be returning.

And oh, yes, John Lennon's "Power to the People" was playing as I ate my ramen. Right on, Leo!

Where slurped: Kirimachi, 450 Broadway, North Beach, SF.

Slurp du Jour: Bún bò Huế at Golden Flower

2011-11-21T20:23:00.000-08:00

My liking for the tremendous variety of noodle dishes at San Sun notwithstanding, I've long felt that the venerable Golden Flower on Jackson Street was the best option in San Francisco's Chinatown for straight up pho. For one thing, unlike some of their newer rivals who use pre-packaged soup bases, they make their broths from scratch, grinding their own spices the old-fashioned way. Not long ago they added bún bò Huế to their menu. This is the spicier cousin of pho, and a specialty of the city of Hue (where it's just called "bun bo"). With the chill of Winter in the air, it's what I wanted.

My bun bo Hue was served in a washbasin-sized bowl, broader but shallower than a typical bowl of pho. Its toppings included generous quantities of pork pate, crosscut beef shank slices (often mistakenly misnamed on menus as "beef tendon") and one or two leaner cuts of beef, possibly oxtail and loin. It was moderately spicy (default for guilaos?) and the noodles were on the soft side of firm, a little disappointing in this respect. The lemongrass-ey broth had good depth, apparent even through the chili spicing. Condiments served on the side included Bay leaf, lime wedges, sliced fresh jalapeno, and mung bean sprouts.

Although I would have preferred the noodles a bit firmer, I had no trouble downing the whole bowl; overall it hit the spot on a brisk day.

Where slurped: Golden Flower, 667 Jackson Street, San Francisco Chinatown.

Back in the Noodle Again at Katana-ya

2011-10-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

For reasons related to being on a diet I've been avoiding noodle runs for a few months. It hasn't helped, so screw that. Going forward I'm going to build my diet around noodles. I made that decision walking through the heart of downtown San Francisco a couple of hours ago when my radar picked up Katana-ya.

Katana-ya is noted for its house special everything-but-the-kitchen-sink bowl of noodles, but it was too early in the evening to declare it dinner time so I opted for a bowl of spicy green onion miso ramen. The toppings included an equal amount of cross-cut spring onions and onion tops and spinach. There was one thin slice of pork, bamboo shoots and, I think, bean sprouts. The noodles were fresh and springy enough, and the broth spicy enough to clear my sinuses. The miso broth was rich-tasting and not overly salty. (Or was it that the chili oil heat had just shouted down the saltiness?) Katana-ya doesn't get a lot of respect (other than for its gut-busting house special, which even includes fried chicken in the toppings) but considering its central location, generous bowl size and generally reasonable pricing, it's a decent ramen option in downtown San Francisco.

Where slurped: Katana-ya, 430 Geary Street, San Francisco

Noodling Legalization Approved By Texas Senate

2011-05-20T08:34:00.000-07:00

This headline in the Huffington Post caught my eye. Alas, it turned out be a red herring, so to speak. It had nothing to do with noodles (or with music, for that matter). It turns out that in Texas "noodling" refers to catching catfish with your bare hands, though the article gives no clue as to why it was illegal in the first place.

Oh, well. Perhaps some day I'll find a venue where I can get hand-caught catfish fish on my hand-pulled noodles. Are you listening, A Niang?

Filling My Dance Card at the North Beach - Chinatown Noodle Fest

2011-05-02T09:25:00.000-07:00

The late newspaper columnist Herb Caen once reported a conversation, allegedly overheard on the street in San Francisco, that went something like this:

"Have you ever noticed how many cities have Chinatown and Little Italy located right next to each other?" said Person 1 to his friend. "Yes," said Person 2, "I think it has something to do with Marco Polo."

Whether you can credit Marco Polo or not, San Francisco is one of the cities (perhaps the original one) in which Chinatown and Little Italy (known locally as North Beach) exist cheek by jowl, along Grant and Columbus Avenues and separated, more or less, by Broadway. This arrangement has experienced tenions in the past, but for the past couple of years the geographical and historical nexus has been commemorated with a "Cultural and Culinary Celebration" called "North Beach - Chinatown Noodle Fest." I'll refrain from questioning why it's not called the "Chinatown - North Beach Noodle Fest," since it was China that invented the noodle some 4,000 years ago (though Marco Polo made Italy its first takeout customer) and just say I'm thankful that the event was created.

At the NBCTNF, for short, you pay $20 for a "dance card" which you can fill with noodle offerings from three of fifteen stalls representing establishments on the Chinatown side of Broadway and three "pasta" offerings from fifteen stalls on the North Beach side, plus one drink from either side (hot tea, milk tea, or coffee). (The full lineup can be seen in this scan of a handout from the event.) There are also noodle and pasta cooking demonstrations, music, speeches, and (this year) Mayoral candidates pressing the flesh.

My three choices from the Chinatown side were Indian Mee Goreng from Penang Garden, Shanghai Noodle with Scallion and Pork from Bund Shanghai, and Cold Szechuan [sic] Spicy House Noodles from The Pot Sticker. I would have preferred to be able to choose all six courses from the Chinatown side of Broadway, but I got to cheat a little by choosing Fat Rice Noodles with Chicken and Broccoli from King of Thai, which bunks with the Italian joints on "upper" Grant Avenue and therefore is a "North Beach" restaurant. For the record, the two non-Asian offerings that filled out my dance card were Shrimp and Chorizo "Potstickers" in Chipotle Creme Sauce from Impala, and Penne Pasta with Wild Boar & Musroom Ragout from Cafe Divine. My drink selection was from the North Beach side, coffee from Caffe Trieste, brewed, I might add, from properly roasted beans.

Of my Asian choices, the winner by default was The Pot Sticker's Cold House Noodles, pictured at the top of this post. I say "by default" because, regrettably, the event is not a favorable venue for hot noodles, which should go directly from the wok or cooking pot to the plate (or paper boat) to the gullet, not prepared in advance and kept lukewarm in chafing dishes. The cold noodles also got an assist from the bright sun and near-80s temperature, whic made their cool spiciness and blend of textures all the more welcome. The Shanghai noodles from Bund Shanghai also made a valiant effort to satisfy, almost savory enough to work as a cold noodle dish, and a texture that held up well to the storage. (These, I should mention, were not the fat Shanghai cu mian, despite the name, but more of a la mian thickness.) The Thai rice noodle dish at least provided some protein, with generous chunks of chicken, but was bland overall, while the poor Mee Goreng didn't stand a chance and came across as a mushy mess.

Although it takes quite a bit of imagination to imagine how most of the noodle dishes would fare freshly cooked and immediately served, there's some residual value in having so many examples side by side for comparison. I became fully aware of the Nort Beach - Chinatown Noodle Fest's shortcomings last year, but still found it worth returning to.

Slurping Shanghai I: Fern Root Noodles at Dunhuang Xiao Ting

2011-04-24T10:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a fascination with Silk Route food for the last couple of years, thanks to encountering good examples of it at the redoubtable Xi’an Famous Foods in New York, and varied noodle offerings are not the least of this cuisine’s attractions. In my last couple of visits to Shanghai one of my missions was to find a casual, inexpensive (yet accessible) purveyor of Silk Route noshes where I could explore this food further, and Dunhuang Xiao Ting (敦煌小亭)seems to fill the bill as well as anything I’ve found . (Like other sophisticated cities, Shanghai tends to present its more exotic “folk” cuisines dressed up and dumbed down on white tablecloths.)

Tops on my list for Dunhuang Xiao Ting on my recent visit was cold “fern root noodles” (蕨根粉, jue gen fen). This is a noodle dish I had yet to encounter anywhere else, and the most frequently recommended item at Dunhuang Xiao Ting by dianping.com reviewers. The version of 蕨根粉 served at Dunhuang Xiao Ting is simply listed as that, but apparently can be found elsewhere as “hot sour fern root noodles” (酸辣蕨根粉).

Fern root noodles, as the name implies, are made from starch extracted from the common bracken fern, pteridium aquilinum, something perhaps only the Chinese would think of doing. They are purplish black in color, and have a chewy texture not unlike yam root (konjac) noodles. Probably for this reason some recipes pair them with shredded jellyfish. At Dunhuang Xiao Ting they are served cold in a bath of vinegar and chili oil and topped with shredded cucumber. Due to the prominent “suan la” character, it was difficult to attribute any distinct flavor to the noodles, or determine if other ingredients were present, though some recipes suggest that sesame oil may have been included.

Overall, the hot, tangy dressing and the cold chewy noodles made for a very satisfying lunch, paired with a couple of roujiamos (cumin lamb and Xi’an-style pork). Unfortunately (for tasting purposes) it was a mild April day; I can imagine the cold fern root noodles to be a killer nosh on sweltering June day.

Where slurped: Dunhuang Xiao Ting, 333 Changde Lu, Shanghai

Slurp du Jour: Mohinga from Burmese Kitchen

2011-01-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

San Francisco is blessed with a number of solid Burmese eating places, including Burmese Kitchen, which I had never visited before today, all serving Mohinga, considered by many to be the national dish of Burma. It was a raw day today, the coldest so far this Winter, and it seemed like a good day to warm myself up with a bowl of Mohinga; not because it is spicy (it is hardly that) but because of the warming richness and depth of flavor that it brings. Burmese Kitchen also happens to be nearby the Asian Art Museum, which was due for a visit by me.

I found the restaurant's dining area attractive and comfortable, if a bit kitschy, with a grass hut motif going. A high counter with stools, similar to a ramen bar, added to the comfort of solo diners like me. I ordered Mohinga with an optional sliced boiled egg in it, and a roti on the side.

Mohinga has been called the Burmese version of pho. It has a number of variations, but the basic version is rice noodles in a fish broth thickened with chick pea flour and seasoned with garlic, onions, lemon grass, and ginger. The noodles are vermicelli sized, called nanthay noodles in Burma. The broth is made from extended (even continuous) simmering of specified fish types (varieties of catfish are acceptable) and may or not contain actual chunks of fish when served (Burmese Kitchen's did not). To add substance, various add-ins are offered. Burmese Kitchen offers fried chickpeas in addition to the sliced hard-boiled egg I ordered. Other toppings may include shredded spring onions, shredded raw or cooked green beans or slices of fried squash. My bowl also came, pho-style, with a complimentary garnish dish containing fresh cilantro and a lime segment.

I found the delicate, complex flavors ot my bowl of Mohinga to be deeply satsifying. The noodles were less toothsome than I'm used to with pho (and all manner of wheaten noodles) but this may be just a Mohinga style; along with the absence of any chili heat, the softness of the noodles seemed complicit in delivering an unctuousness that was not at all unpleasant. I also wished I had order the fried chickpea add-in as well as the boiled egg; even accompanied by a roti (which I found to be a little on the greasy side) my lunch was barely substantial enough to get me through the cold afternoon.

A nice little overview of Mohinga's history and its place in Burmese society by Dr. Khin Maung Nyunt can be found here.

Where slurped: Burmese Kitchen, 452 Larkin St., San Francisco.

New Year Noodles from San Sun -- House of 5,000 Noodles

2011-01-01T19:23:00.000-08:00

It's New Year's Day, so I naturally headed out to down some noodles "for long life." Weather was iffy and my stomach was growling, so I hightailed it to a neighborhood standby, San Sun, which I've come to thinking of as the House of 5,000 Noodles. No, San Sun doesn't bill itself as such but I've done the math. I'll explain below.

San Sun is a venerable Hokkien Chinese-Vietnamese-Malaysian family-run restaurant on Stockton Street in Chinatown which specializes in noodle dishes and other one-plate meals. San Sun's colorful, booklet-style menu lists no fewer than 51 noodle soups. There's a choice of 10 different types of noodle for each, and for 50 cents more you can choose to have any two types of noodles in your soup. This makes for 100 different noodle possibilities for each of the 51 toppings, or 5,100 different bowls of soup. Add to that an additional 40 "dry" noodle dishes (chow mein, lo mein, etc.) with a choice from five different noodle types for each, and you begin to see my point.

San Sun's offerings include Chinese-type noodle soups (with Fujian influences showing clearly in some), Vietnamese Pho, and satay noodle soups (the Malaysian in the family making her influence felt). The house-made satay sauce, incidentally, is so good that it's sold by the bottle by popular demand. For good measure, you can also find a Cambodian-style rice noodle soup and a Taiwanese-style beef noodle soup on the menu, as well as noodle-less soups, congee, rice plates and various house specialties, including an oyster pancake.

For my noodles du jour, I decided to short-circuit the decision making process and honor New Year's Day with the cleanest, lighest option I could think of, the Pho Ga (chicken) with thin rice noodles rather than the heavier wide "ho fun" noodles (and no, I was not hung over). The slight sweetness of the delicately-flavored broth was easily tempered by a squeeze of lime from the condiment dish, and a few slices of jalapeno pepper added all the oomph it needed. The noodles were slightly springy, and the shards of chicken breasts tasted fresh. The Pho Ga at San Sun was the perfect refreshing tonic to start the new year with, and I immediately resolved to return soon for some meatier, satay-laden choices.

Where slurped: San Sun Restaurant, 941 Stockton St., San Francisco*

*San Sun will be mMoving to 848 Washington St. (the former Great Oriental space) "in early 2011," displaced by the upcoming Muni Chinatown Subway construction.

Slurp du jour: Wonton Mein at ABC Bakery Restaurant

2010-12-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

aABC Restaurant in heart of San Francisco's Chinatown is anything but. (American Born Chinese, that is.) From the bins of Cantonese-style pastries at the front to the apparent reluctance of the servers to bring you your check when you have to leave, it's as Hong Kong as it gets. (Not to even mention the macaroni soups.) It's also the place that a couple of graduate student friends from Guangzhou swear reminds them most of home. Therefore, when old China hand and Professor Emeritus at Zhongshan University, Lonnie Hodge, along with his ex-student Li Huiqing (at Berkeley on a fellowship) brought growling stomachs along on our Chinatown crawl, it was a logical place to stop.

I opted for the cha siu wonton mein (a.k.a. 叉烧云吞面, cha shao yun tun mian in Mandarin), a classic combination of southern style wontons and fine egg noodles in a bouillion-like broth topped, in my case, with thin slices of fatty Cantonese-style barbecued pork. I'm still learning to like the thin HK-style noodles (I've likened eating them to chewing on someone's hair) and slowly succeeding, I think. These had plenty of chew to them, which somewhat redeemed them from their meager circumferences. The wontons were the star, enormous and packed full of fresh-tasting, snappy shrimp and vegetal accompaniments. The scale of these wontons is more evident in the photo to the right of the "lo mein" version of the same dish, enjoyed by Ms. Li. We accompanied our wheaten noodles with a plate of chang fen, wide rice noodles topped with a sticky, peanutty syrup which was tasty but a bit sweet to my taste.

Would I return? I will, and I have. ABC has been a go-to place for me for wonton mein for a few years now.

Where slurped: ABC Bakery Restaurant, 650 Jackson St., San Francisco

Noodling New York: Why a Duck?

2010-12-05T19:43:00.000-08:00

It was Thanksgiving in New York, and I was flying solo. As I more often than not do when I'm having dinner alone there, I hopped on the 7 Train and headed for the Golden Mall in Flushing. I wasn't jonesing for turkey, as my visit had triggered a pre-emptive family Thanksgiving dinner upstate, replete with turkey, ten days before, and just two days earlier I had enjoyed a fried turkey leg, a one-off created by Eddie Huang at the late lamented Xiao Ye. Nonetheless. But why a duck? Some unreconstructed traditionalist in me cried fowl, and what better time to check out the duck la mian I'd been ogling on the menu of the Lanzhou Handmade Noodle stall?

Lanzhou Noodle's duck noodles came with the house's reliably springy fresh hand-pulled noodles in a rich, slightly sweetish broth. It was perhaps a touch too sweet for my tastes, but this sweetness was easily attenuated with a dollop of la you. The soup was topped with a generous portion of duck, as can bees seen in the photo above. The duck, quite obviously, was made off-premises, roast duck logistics being what they are. It was less aromatic and more ducky in flavor than the typical Cantonese roast duck, at least those I am familiar with in San Francisco. Overall, the duck noodles are one of the best options on Lanzhou Handmade Noodles' menu. At just a buck or so more than the standard beef la mian, they stand out as one of the best bargains as well.

Where slurped: Lanzhou Handmade Noodles, 41-28 Main St., Flushing NY

Noodling New York: Hakata "Kuro" Ramen at Hide-Chan

2010-12-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

On my recent New York trip, noodles at Hide-Chan Ramen were at the top of my list. Not that I'm a big ramen chaser (as I've made clear in the past), but Serious Eats NY had just named it the best ramen in New York, even ahead of the vaunted Ippudo, and I wondered what all the fuss was about. SE may have something there; I don't know if it was the noodle quality overall, or the style I ordered, but it was one of the most satisfying bowls of ramen I have ever had. On Serious Eats' recommendatiion, I went with the Hakata Kuro Ramen. "Kuro" apparently means black, and the blackness comes from charred garlic or, as the Hide-Chan menu describes it, "original 'ma-yu' roasted garlic oil." The noodles in my bowl were perfectly springy, and the toppings adequate, if not generous. But it was the addition of the blackened garlic oil that made the ramen exceptional. The garlic oil slick evident in the above photo turned the whole bowl an inky black color when stirred; more than that, it added a dimension of flavor to what otherwise might have just another salty, muddy broth.

Where slurped: Hide-Chan Ramen, 248 E 52nd St, New York

Slurp du Jour: Home-cooked Duck Noodles

2010-11-07T17:45:00.000-08:00

Sometimes home-made ad hoc noodle deliciousness cannot be topped (or can be topped, as it were). Such as was the case the other night when Ju Ju, pressed for time, threw the above bowl together for me. Vacuum-packed fresh noodles from Korea (which she's favored lately) were cooked and served in her standard pork neckbone soup broth with a few pickled vegetables and a mere kiss of Lao Ganma. It was amply topped with duck meat stripped from a Chinatown roast duck, and a couple of 荷包蛋 (fried eggs to you).

Yum!

Where Slurped: At home.

Noodles du Jour: Curry Laksa from Azalina Malaysian

2010-10-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

Off the Grid at Fort Mason Center, the Friday night street food extravaganza, is beginning to wind down for the Winter hiatus. There were no new vendors last night, and few new dishes to entice me, so I was doubly happy that Azalina of Azalina Malaysian had added a Curry Laksa to her offerings. Azalina's version had both laksa noodles and thin rice vermicelli in a coconutty lemon grass flavored broth, and was topped with a generous amount of chicken and you doufu. It was a hearty and tasty portion for $6.00, and the al dente thick laksa noodles contrasted nicely with the tender vermicelli. Having little familiarity with the dish, I took it as is, but the next time I'll ask for a bit more spice heat, as it was a little on the bland side.

Where Slurped: Off the Grid, Fort Mason Center, San Francisco

The Rap on Lanzhou La Mian

2010-10-17T19:36:00.000-07:00

To be sure, the subject of this post is a rap song about Lanzhou La Mian, by Gansu rapper Gao Xi, as a tribute to his iconic home town specialty. Click on the above image to hear the song, animated by Yu Ran Animation Studio. For those who can read Chinese, the lyrics are presented below. If you Don't read Chinese, but want to rap along, a PinYin romanization follows. I'll be very happy if someone can provide an intelligible line-by line translation of the lyrics, though a machine translation will give a rough sense of the meaning.

[Note: the animated version of th Lanzhou La Mian rap song linked above is slightly shortened from the original single; a full version, accompanied by by a less didactic but (to some) more stylish video can be seen at the 6.cn website.]

(哎~ 饿饿死我了老板给我弄碗面再拿瓶五泉啥面兰州拉面哦来嘞)

走在兰州的大街上有太多的东西让你不能忘

一路上走过的漂亮姑娘还有兰州的面也能让你吃个爽

什么炒面拉面牛肉面还有清真的面皮在等你尝鲜

但是不要忽略最重要的一点牛肉面是牛肉面拉面是拉面

牛肉面它不是拉面拉面不是牛肉面你听清楚没

里面的区别可不容你小看虽然全国各地都卖过这样的饭

正宗兰州牛肉拉面什么牛肉加拉面是啥东西我说啊

人活脸树活皮人要没脸赛过驴不了解行情就不要胡言乱语

竖起耳朵朋友们你们给我听仔细

牛肉面不是牵着牛做面牛肉面用上等的牛肉汤下

面细宽几种规格随你换出锅后给你放点香菜葱花说到兰州拉面

新鲜的做法如果你了解你一定感觉很伟大

兰州正宗师傅就是这么歪一根面可以给你拉一碗

拉着面的时候比魔术还精彩转眼间变成又细又长的一根面

下面的肉汤千里飘着香包你吃了一碗还会再想你想想想你来尝尝尝

要是钱没带够你也不用慌张跟老板讲一讲

我们甘肃人可是善良又大方我们甘肃人可是善良又大方

诶~兰州的面这么吃我给你说下加上二斤肉再来窝个蛋

干上瓶五泉你也来尝尝鲜啊便宜得很才五块钱哦~

兰州的面也可以这么吃滴点辣椒油再弄点大蒜

喝上口鲜汤赞劲的很保证吃了一碗让你回味几十年

(这个面还是不错的可惜你这个地方没什么好玩的胡说听着)

西北的文化你又懂的多少可能你的了解等于你不知道

出生结婚还有挂的时候才会洗洗澡这些话只是那些无知人们的笑料

听完我的这个歌希望你能好好检讨否则你来这旅游我还真不让你洗澡

听着没还真不让你洗澡听听我的介绍敦煌有个石窟叫做莫高

丝绸之路上驼铃声声多美妙记载了中华文明千百年的荣耀

西北边陲有个军马场风景也很好草滩上世界名种山丹骏马在赛跑

烈性的青稞酒随时待命把你放倒陇东南的天水有个伏羲庙

人文始祖的老家就在甘肃你知道不知道呆你到底知道不知道

还有一个最重要玩累了没啥大不了兰州面味道又在你的周围飘

闻个好吃个饱俗话说的话万里长城永不倒兰州拉面就是好

咦 ~你给我吹吧呵呵

兰州的面这么吃我给你说下加上二斤肉再来窝个蛋

干上瓶五泉你也来尝尝鲜啊便宜得很才五块钱哦~

兰州的面也可以这么吃滴点辣椒油再弄点大蒜

喝上口鲜汤赞劲的很保证吃了一碗让你回味几十年

兰州的面这么吃我再给你说下加上二斤肉再来窝个蛋

干上瓶五泉你也来尝尝鲜啊便宜得很才五块钱哦~

兰州的面也可以这么吃滴点辣椒油再弄点大蒜

喝上口鲜汤赞劲的很保证吃了一碗让你回味几十年

(āi - è èsǐ wǒ liǎo/liào lǎobǎn gěi/jǐ wǒ lòng/nòng wǎn miàn zài ná píng wǔ quán shá miàn lánzhōu lāmiàn é/ó lái lei)

zǒu zài lánzhōu de/dí/dì dàjiē shàng yǒu tàiduō de/dí/dì dōngxi/dōngxī ràng nǐ bùnéng wàng

yī lùshang zǒu guò de/dí/dì piàoliang gūniang háiyǒu lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn yě néng ràng nǐ chī/jí gè shuǎng

shénme chǎo miàn lāmiàn niúròu miàn háiyǒu qīngzhēn de/dí/dì miàn pí zài děng nǐ cháng xiān/xiǎn

dànshì bùyào hūluè zuì zhòngyào de/dí/dì yīdiǎn niúròu miàn shì niúròu miàn lāmiàn shì lāmiàn

niúròu miàn tā búshì lāmiàn lāmiàn búshì niúròu miàn nǐ tīng/tìng qīngchu méi/mò

lǐmiàn de/dí/dì qūbié kě bùróng nǐ xiǎo kān/kàn suīrán quánguógèdì dōu/dū mài guò zhèyàng de/dí/dì fàn

zhēng/zhèng zōng lánzhōu niúròu lāmiàn shénme niúròu jiā lāmiàn shì shá dōngxi/dōngxī wǒ shuì/shuō a/ā/á/ǎ/à

rén huó liǎn shù huó pí rén yāo/yào méi/mò liǎn sài guò lú bùliǎo jiě/jiè/xiè háng/xíng/xìng qíng jiù bùyào hú yán luàn yǔ/yù

shùqi ěrduo péngyou men nǐmen gěi/jǐ wǒ tīng/tìng zǐxì

niúròu miàn búshì qiān zhāo/zháo/zhe/zhù/zhuó niú zuò miàn niúròu miàn yòng shàngděng de/dí/dì niúròu tāng xià

miàn xì kuān jī/jǐ zhǒng/zhòng guīgé suí nǐ huàn chū guō hòu gěi/jǐ nǐ fàng diǎn xiāngcài cōng huā

shuì/shuō dào lánzhōu lāmiàn

xīnxiān de/dí/dì zuòfǎ rúguǒ nǐ liǎojiě nǐ yīdìng gǎnjué hěn wěidà

lánzhōu zhēng/zhèng zōng shīfu jiùshì zhème wāi yī gēn miàn kěyǐ gěi/jǐ nǐ lā yīwǎn

lā zhāo/zháo/zhe/zhù/zhuó miàn deshíhòu bǐ/bì móshù hái/huán jīngcǎi zhuǎnyǎn jiān/jiàn biànchéng yòu xì yòu cháng de/dí/dì yī gēn miàn

xiàmian de/dí/dì ròu tāng qiān lǐ piāo zhāo/zháo/zhe/zhù/zhuó xiāng bāo nǐ chī/jí liǎo/liào yīwǎn hái/huán

huì/kuài zài xiǎng nǐ xiǎng xiǎng xiǎng nǐ lái cháng cháng cháng

yàoshì qián méi/mò dài gòu nǐ yěbù yòng huāngzhāng gēn lǎobǎn jiǎng yī jiǎng

wǒmen gānsù rén kěshì shànliáng yòu dàfāng wǒmen gānsù rén kěshì shànliáng yòu dàfāng

ēi
lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn zhème chī/jí wǒ gěi/jǐ nǐ shuì/shuō xià jiāshàng èr jīn ròu zài lái wō gè dàn

gān/gàn shàng píng wǔ quán nǐ yě lái cháng cháng xiān/xiǎn a/ā/á/ǎ/à piányi dehěn cái wǔ kuāi/kuài qián

é/ó lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn yě kěyǐ zhème chī/jí dī diǎn làjiāo yóu zài lòng/nòng diǎn dà suàn

hē/hè shàng kǒu xiān/xiǎn tāng zàn jìn/jìng de/dí/dì hěn bǎozhèng chī/jí liǎo/liào yīwǎn ràng nǐ huí wèi jǐshínián

zhègè miàn háishì bùcuò de/dí/dì kěxī nǐ zhègè dìfang méishénme hǎo/hào wán/wàn de/dí/dì húshuō tīng/tìng zhāo/zháo/zhe/zhù/zhuó

xīběi de/dí/dì wénhuà nǐ yòu dǒng de/dí/dì duōshao/duōshǎo kěnéng nǐ de/dí/dì liǎojiě děngyú nǐ bùzhī dào

chūshēng jiéhūn háiyǒu guà deshíhòu cái huì/kuài xǐ xǐzǎo zhèxie huà zhǐshì nàxiē wúzhī rénmen de/dí/dì xiào liào

tīng/tìng wán wǒde zhègè gē xīwàng nǐ néng hǎohǎo jiǎntǎo fǒuzé nǐ lái zhèi lǔyóu wǒ hái/huán zhēn bù ràng nǐ xǐzǎo

tīng/tìng zhāo/zháo/zhe/zhù/zhuó méi/mò hái/huán zhēn bù ràng nǐ xǐzǎo tīng/tìng tīng/tìng wǒde jièshào dūn huáng yǒu gè shí kū jiàozuò mò gāo

sīchóuzhīlù shàng tuó líng shēng shēng duō měimiào jìzǎi liǎo/liào zhōnghuá wénmíng qiān bǎinián de/dí/dì róngyào

xīběi biānchuí yǒu gè jūn mǎ chǎng fēngjǐng yě hěnhǎo cǎo tān shàng shìjiè míng zhǒng/zhòng shān dān jùnmǎ zài sài pǎo

liè xìng de/dí/dì qīngkē jiǔ suíshí dāi/dài mìng bǎ/bà nǐ fàng dǎo/dào lǒng dōngnán de/dí/dì tiān shuǐ yǒu gè fú xī miào

rén wén shǐ zǔ de/dí/dì lǎojiā jiù zài gānsù nǐ zhīdao bùzhī dào dāi nǐ dàodǐ zhīdao bùzhī dào

háiyǒu yīgè zuì zhòngyào wán/wàn léi/lěi/lèi liǎo/liào méi/mò shá dà bùliǎo lánzhōu miàn wèidao yòu zài nǐ de/dí/dì zhōuwéi piāo

wén gè hǎochī gè bǎo súhuà shuì/shuō dehuà wàn lǐ chángchéng yǒng bù dǎo/dào lánzhōu lāmiàn jiùshì hǎo/hào

yí
nǐ gěi/jǐ wǒ chuī ba/bā ā/hē ā/hē

lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn zhème chī/jí wǒ gěi/jǐ nǐ shuì/shuō xià jiāshàng èr jīn ròu zài lái wō gè dàn

gān/gàn shàng píng wǔ quán nǐ yě lái cháng cháng xiān/xiǎn a/ā/á/ǎ/à piányi dehěn cái wǔ kuāi/kuài qián

é/ó - lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn yě kěyǐ zhème chī/jí dī diǎn làjiāo yóu zài lòng/nòng diǎn dà suàn

hē/hè shàng kǒu xiān/xiǎn tāng zàn jìn/jìng de/dí/dì hěn bǎozhèng chī/jí liǎo/liào yīwǎn ràng nǐ huí wèi jǐshínián

lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn zhème chī/jí wǒ zài gěi/jǐ nǐ shuì/shuō xià jiāshàng èr jīn ròu zài lái wō gè dàn

gān/gàn shàng píng wǔ quán nǐ yě lái cháng cháng xiān/xiǎn a/ā/á/ǎ/à piányi dehěn cái wǔ kuāi/kuài qián

é/ó - lánzhōu de/dí/dì miàn yě kěyǐ zhème chī/jí dī diǎn làjiāo yóu zài lòng/nòng diǎn dà suàn

hē/hè shàng kǒu xiān/xiǎn tāng zàn jìn/jìng de/dí/dì hěn bǎozhèng chī/jí liǎo/liào yīwǎn ràng nǐ huí wèi jǐshínián

Slurp du Jour: Beef Hand Pulled Noodles at San Dong House

2010-09-14T19:59:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe a new restaurant in San Francisco featuring hand-pulled noodles existed for a full two weeks without me knowing about it, but I was clueless until a gourmand buddy, Al Cheng, posted a mini-review on Facebook of San Dong House in the Inner Richmond District. Needless to say, I was on it by the time of my next meal, which was lunch today.

San Dong House's menu presents a roster of 18 hand-pulled noodle dishes leading off a very ambitious bill of fare that lists over 160 items exclusive of drinks including (naturally), eight kinds of shui jiao dumplings and a staggering 22 "skewer sticks." The restaurant's dedication to the noodles is evidenced, however, by the noodle-making station in full view of the dining area, manned by a cheerful and enthusiastic noodle chef, and I was not to be deterred from my mission of vetting the la mian.

I selected the simply-named "beef noodles soup" for benchmarking purposes, niu rou la mian being the default offering in many parts of the Chinese hand-pulled noodle world. The noodles themselves were perfection, just the right thickness, bite, and chewiness for my tastes. The broth was beefy, well toward the Taiwan beef noodle soup end of the broth spectrum and away from the clear broth at the Lanzhou la mian end. It lacked the complex spicing of the Taiwan style broths, however, and I found it monochromatic and a bit too salty; it benefited from a dash of chili paste. The beef was an ample serving of lean cubes, a little on the chewy side. I'd choose a fattier topping or one with more textures the next time. Overall, it was a very satisfying bowl, credit going to the noodles themselves, and I'll certainly be back to try more noodle dishes whenever that I can fend off the small eats attractions calling to me from other sections of the menu.

Where slurped: San Dong House BBQ, 3741 Geary Blvd., Richmond District, San Francisco.

Slurp du Jour: Ajisen Ramen rides into town

2010-08-18T20:11:00.000-07:00

Ajisen Ramen is a fast food noodle chain which originated in Kumamoto, Japan and is growing rapidly, especially in Asia. In Shanghai, where I had my only previous Ajisen experiences, there are at last count 189 outlets, by way of example. Today the first Ajisen Ramen shop in San Francisco opened in the basement food court of the Westfield San Francisco Centre, leaving us only 188 behind Shanghai. Despite being somewhat olfactorally challenged, thanks to a head cold resulting from our endless non-summer of 2010, I decided to check out Ajisen SF on its first day.

I arrived at Ajisen in late afternoon (4:00) in order to avoid the hectic first-day lunch period and found the dining area still about 75 percent full. I pondered ordering the Spicy Beef Noodle option from the laminated picture menu to see if it corresponded to the honestly spicy "Volcano" noodle dish on Ajisen's Asian menus; my condition, however, combined with the absence of cold beer from the menu, steered me to blander fare. My choice, the "Supreme" Pork Ramen, appeared to be Ajsen's tonkotsu broth option, though the two servers I queried could only confirm that it was a pork broth. This broth was almost offensively unctuous and creamy, though blessedly not overly salty. It went well with my cold, though I doubt I would choose this option while in full health. The razor-thin pork slices were surprisingly dry, reminiscent of the shavings of beef found in Lanzhou lamian soups in China, functioning more as condiments than as protein sources. I know nothing of the provenance of the noodles used by Ajisen, but they were the most satisfying component of my bowl, having been cooked to just the right degree of al dente goodness.

Ajisen's noodle bowls range from $6.50 for the eponymous "Ajisen Ramen" bowl to $9.25 for the seafood bowl. There are also appetizers like gyoza, fried tofu and edamame. A separate laminated menu is offered for drinks, which include bubble teas. They offer an unsweetened cold green tea beverage, but I was told they were out of it when I ordered it. I'll most likely return to vet the Spicy Beef noodle option, and perhaps some of the other more demure broth-based bowls.

Where slurped: Westfield San Francisco Centre, 865 Market St. (food court below Nordstroms), San Francisco

Slurp du Jour: Tempura Udon at Not-Quite-the-Same Kui Shin Bo

2010-08-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

At the Nihonmachi Street Festival yesterday the charcoal-grilled meats were enticing, but my visit followed upon my eighth straight Friday night at Off the Grid, so I decided to forego street food for the quietude of a former favorite noodlery, Kui Shin Bo. Kui Shin Bo is in a forlorn second-floor corner of the equally forlorn Miyako Mall (which is overshadowed by the bustling Kintetsu Mall); on arrival I noticed changes, not the least of which was a friendly server for a change. Subsequent research confirmed that the place had indeed The changed hands since my last visit.

The chashu udon which I had a sudden craving for was not to be had on that visit, so I opted for the shrimp tempura udon. I liked the spartan presentation, just the udon noodles and onions in a clear broth with the tempura on the side (it has not always been that way). The soup had a refreshingly clean, if salty, taste, and the noodles were perhaps a bit too soft. Portions of both the udon and the tempura were generous, though less batter and more shrimpmeat and vegetables would have been nice. As always, the price was right, $7 for a decent sized lunch.

Would I return? Perhaps, for another shot at the chashu udon, though the consistency of the noodles seemed off, and I DO miss that cranky waitress of yore.

Where slurped: Kui Shin Bo, 22 Peace Plaza (in Miyako Mall), San Francisco.

Biang! Biang! You're Fed

2010-08-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

Biang biang mian, a.k.a. you po che mian at Xi'an Famous Foods, Flushing

"Biang Biang" noodles are the stuff of folklore. Not because of the dish itself (though it deserves to be legendary) but because of the very name. The word "biang" is a Shaanxi localism not found in any modern Chinese dictionaries, famous for its complexity. It is written with 57 strokes, and pity the poor sign-maker that has to paint it twice. No one knows for certain where the name originated, but the most plausible guess is that it represents the sound of the noodles being slapped against the work surface when being made. This theory is advanced by Xi'an Famous Foods' Jason Wang in this video. Biang Biang noodles, being "as wide and thick as belts" are also famous for that reason as one of the "ten strange wonders of Shaanxi." But don't look for "Biang Biang" noodles on your menu; although phonetic substitutes like 棒棒麵 (bàng bàng miàn) or 梆梆麵 (bāng bāng miàn) may sometimes be used, according to Wikipedia, the dish is most commonly listed on menus outside of Shaanxi as you po che mian (油泼扯面).

You po che mian, roughly "oil-sprinkled torn noodles" are wide wheat noodles tossed (or stirred) with chili oil and some or all of: bean sprouts, crushed garlic, chili flakes, cabbage, and cilantro. The noodles are made by tearing wide strips of noodle dough in two lengthwise, rather than iteratively pulling them to thinness as done with "hand pulled" noodles (la mian). Traditionally they were supposedly made more than an inch thick and a meter in length, but fortunately are found in a more manageable size nowadays. Biang biang mian/you po che mian is an excellent hot weather dish, hard to find even in China outside of Xi'an. If you're lucky enough to be in New York, though, head for the nearest outlet of Xi'an Famous Foods for the excellent version depicted in the photo at the top of this page.

How Much Do You Love Noodles? (Rated R)

2010-08-07T08:29:00.000-07:00

I suspect this is mostly true of rameniacs, for whom "using your noodle" takes on a different meaning.

Lanzhou La Mian -- Part II

2010-08-04T20:14:00.000-07:00

Note: This post originally appeared in my other blog in a slightly different form

In the last post, I documented my love for the Lanzhou Zheng Zong Niu Rou La Mian shops which can be found all over Shanghai (but especially the one on Hainan Xi Long). As promised, Here is a bit more of the science and history of this saving dish.
Making hand-pulled noodles requires an exceptionally supple dough; in practice this is usually achieved by the addition of kansui (jiang shui, or 鹼水), an alkaline solution of potassium and sodium carbonates, or a powdered base for same. Historically, however, the noodles were actually made supple by kneading lye from wood ash directly with the wheat flour. According to this article, "lye-kneaded wheat noodles" have been found in only three places in the world: Lanzhou, Gansu province, China; Chiang Mai, Thailand, and Okinawa. This practice probably was developed in China and introduced to the other two venues by Hakka travelers. Lanzhou is the only place in China where the practice persists. There, the lye is derived from burning mugwort grasses (peng cao) in a hole and extracting solidified rock-like mugwort ash (peng hui , 蓬灰) by a dripping method. The traditional use of peng hui can be seen in this video.

Lanzhou beef noodles as we know the dish is said to have originated with Ma Baozi (马保子,1870-1955), a member of the Hui nationality, in Lanzhou at the end of the Qing Dynasty. He first sold his noodles of the street, and achieved such fame fame for their tastiness that in Lanzhou they became known as "Ma Baozi Beef Noodles." In 1919 he opened his first "bricks and mortar" shop. Today, there are around 1,000 beef noodle shops in Lanzhou. The traditional characteristics of Ma Baozi Beef Noodles are said to be "one clear, two white, three red, four green, five yellow" (一清、二白、三红、四绿、五黄), a reference to clear soup, white daikon radish, red chili oil, green cilantro and yellow noodles. (The use of an alkali imparts a yellowish tint to the noodles, which use no egg.)
I'm indebted to Sunny's Sohu Blog for the picture of the Ma Bao Zi restaurant at the top of this page. I learned a lot about Lanzhou and the background of Lanzhou la mian from her post. Please visit it for more tempting photos of the restaurant and its wares.

Lanzhou La Mian -- Part I

2010-08-04T20:04:00.000-07:00

Note: This post originally appeared in my other blog in a slightly different form

On my periodic tours of Shanghai, I'm usually on a mission to visit as many different far-flung notable small eats establishments as I can get to, which means very few repeat visits. However, when I reviewed my notes for my April stay last year, I found (not surprisingly to me) that I had visited one restaurant no less than 10 times in the space of a month. This restaurant happened to be a noodle shop of the "Lanzhou La Mian" stripe, Lanzhou Zheng Zong Niu Rou La Mian (兰州正宗牛肉拉面), roughly translated as "Authentic Lanzhou Hand-pulled Beef Noodles."

Why so many visits to this shop? For starters, it was just steps from the apartment hotel I stayed in. It was also open early and late (7:00 AM to 4:00 AM), was extremely inexpensive, and its products were tasty and filling. Thus, if it were raining (which it often was), if I were late getting around and famished, or just too plumb lazy to go further, it was there; but most of all, I had come to love the noodles from this shop from my previous visit in October 2008.

Shanghai has some 250 "Lanzhou La Mian" styled restaurants, judging from the listings in dianping.com. About 50 of these, like the one across from my hotel, are "official" Lanzhou La Mian Shops, with identical names, identical signage, identical menus, identical prices and more or less the same modus operandi: although there is a kitchen at the back of the shop, the noodles are made when ordered at a work table at the front of the shop, and passed, when finished, through a sliding window into a large pot of boiling water on stove set up outside. After all, who wants large pots of boiling water inside an un-air conditioned restaurant in a Shanghai summer?

In addition to the beef noodles, Lanzhou La Mian establishments will also offer lamb (but no pork, being Muslim and halal) noodles. In addition to pulled noodles they will have knife-shaved noodles (刀削面), lamb or beef pao mo (泡馍), or hand-torn steamed bread in soup, and other non-noodle and non-soup foods characteristic of the Lanzhou region. Despite this fairly extensive menu, the hand pulled beef noodles are always the main attraction, but don't go for them because you are a beef-eater. The thin beef slices, along with generous sprigs of cilantro are little more than garnish for the fresher-than-fresh noodles in a skillfully complex broth. A "small" bowl (enough for a hearty lunch) will set you back 4 yuan (about 60 cents), while a dinner-sized bowl if 5 yuan (about 75 cents).

It's notable that although the name and the origin of the specialty noodles come from Lanzhou, Gansu province, more often than not the Lanzhou La Mian restaurants are operated by Hui nationality Muslims from neighboring Qinghai Province. The history (and science) behind Lanzhou La Mian, and the development and popularization of today's bowl of beef hand-pulled noodle soup by one Ma Bao Zi in the early 20th Century, are fascinating subjects that will be touched on in a subsequent post.

Slurp du Jour: Shoyu Ramen from a Ramen Pop-up in a Salvadoran Restaurant

2010-07-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I'm trying to expand my ramen knowledge at the very (presumed) top, or just trying to capture a shooting star before it burns out, but for the third time in a row my bowl of ramen came with a double-digit price, even before any tax, tip or ancillary indulgences. This time it was Ken-Ken Ramen, a Monday night pop-up at a normally Salvadoran and Mexican restaurant, Panchita's #3, and named, apparently, for chef Kenji Miyazaki.

I got there tonight a few minutes before the announced starting time of 6:00, and sure enough, the Ramen lantern was hung outside of Panchita's. I was seated at the bar, the first person to be directed there, even though most of the two-tops were unoccupied. It soon became clear why: within half an hour there was a butt in every seat in the joint and a line outside.

As of the moment, the Ken-Ken menu offers a choice of miso, shoyu, or miso vegetarian ramen, and I chose the shoyu. The non-veggie bowls were topped with chashu, mizuna, nori, a soft-boiled egg, bamboo shoots; fish cake and Spring onions. All bowls were $11.00, three bucks less than I paid for a bowl of ramen at Ippudo in New York a few weeks earlier, or a dollar more than I paid for a Hapa Ramen styrofoam bowlful more recently. Compared to either, it was a relative bargain. It came with a free edamame appetizer, was a much larger serving than Hapa's, and came in a real stoneware bowl. Compared to Ippudo's, there wasn't much my novice ramen palate could find to distinguish between the two for tastiness. Although shoyu ramen broth is soy sauce based, it wasn't as salty as I'd feared, possibly not even as salty as the miso broth might have been. It was a clean, savory taste, not as muddy or fatty as Ippudo's (which, to be fair, was a tonkatsu broth). The noodles were curiously yellower than one would expect, but not noticeably acrid from kansui, and cooked just to my liking, on the firm side of al dente. The toppings were generous enough to be filling, though I wouldn't have minded a teensy bit more chashu, since you asked. There was an extra chashu option (for $3) but no extra noodle serving option.

Ken-Ken is a venture I might visit again (after my next big 401k bounce) to check out the miso ramen, though in the interim I need to visit some more proletarian ramen venues to recalibrate.

Where slurped: Ken-Ken Ramen at Panchita's #3, 3115 22nd St., Mission District, San Francico

Hong Kong Cart Noodles: Two Ways to DIY

2010-07-24T19:59:00.001-07:00

For someone who doesn't cook and has the habit of marrying women who eschew cookbooks, I've amassed a fairly impressive collection of Chinese cookbooks and books about Chinese food generally, especially books that can teach or entertain. My latest find is Local Snacks in Hong Kong in the "Yellow Bus Loves Hong Kong" series. It features 12 popular Hong Kong street snacks, and what makes the book unique is its treatment of them. Not only does it give some background and a description of each dish, but it it provides all you need (except for the ingredients) to make the dish yourself in two different ways: cook it, or create a paper model from a clip-and-fold page provided for each dish. Hong Kong Cart Noodles is one dish given this honor. This dish, we are told, was popular in the 1950s and featured a sort of buffet on wheels from which you could construct your own bowl of noodle soup by choosing as many toppings as you liked from a wondrous array. Actual noodle carts have been banned from the streets for safety and hygiene reasons but the dish lives on in food stalls and restaurants.

The template at the top illustrates how to make your own cut-and-fold bowl of cart noodles. Clicking it will enlarge it for detail. If all that cutting and folding makes you hungry, Local Snacks in Hong Kong obliges you with a recipe for cart noodles:

Ingredients:
Soup: Pork rib soup, curry soup, or tomato vegetable soup.
Noodles: Thin noodles, thick noodles, instant noodles, udon, Yi Mian, He Fan, rice noodles, etc.
Dishes: Fish balls, beef balls, pig skin, curdled pig's blood, Chinese radish, fish skin dumplings, chicken wings, vegetables, dried mushrooms (soake to soften), squid, beef tripe, etc.
Method:

Cook noodles and dishes and mix them with the soup.

What could be simpler?

Slurp du Jour: Pho Tai Lan at Turtle Tower

2010-07-15T19:59:00.000-07:00

I find it hard to walk through the Little Saigon district on Larkin St. without stopping in at Turtle Tower restaurant. Yesterday, on my way to the Asian Art Museum I succumbed to its lure. Not that I have any guilt feelings, however: when I eat pho, especially the northern version (pho bac), I cultivate the impression that I am eating something relatively healthy, compared to, say, the fatty saltiness of ramen.

I settled on the Pho Tai Lan, lightly stir-fried lean beef slices with celery, carrot, onion and leek. As is the case with northern-style pho, the noodles were wide and flat, the broth subtle and minimally spiced, and the little garnish dish held only a lime wedge and jalapeno slices. The slippery noodles were cooked just right, and I only dared use about a third of the jalapenos lest they overpower the subtle beefy goodness of the clean broth. The only discordant note was the carrots, but that's just me. I am not a carrot fan. The man sharing the table with me (the place was packed, even at 2:30 in the afternoon) was apparently not a carrot fan either; after emptying his garnish dish, he filled it with sriracha which he proceeded to use to dip the carrots from his pho ga in.

My "small" bowl of pho was $6.75 ("small" and "large" on the menu translate to "large" and "extra large" respectively). Will I return? I always have.

Where slurped: Turtle Tower, 631 Larkin St., Little Saigon, San Francisco

"Spoonful yummy ramen noodles, yeah it's good to carry!"

2010-07-14T10:34:00.001-07:00

Want to fly the noodle flag as a cell phone charm? Look no further than Strapya World, which carries "over 15,000 kinds of mobile charms delivering you 'up-to-date Japan cool/ kawaii culture' w/ more than 60 hard workers in the office." Of the 15,000 cell phone charms (known to Japanese as keitai straps) I am drawn to this one, which comes in both miso and tonkotsu flavors in a red, white or black spoon. I was sold on the product by this product description, and will order one when I figure out how:

Yummy ramen noodles are in a spoon. Yes, it almost gets ready to go in your empty stomach. Noodles and char shu soaked in hot soup. This replica ramen roodles make us feel really hungry and drive to a nearest Chinese restaurant. Instead, you can carry a spoonful of ramen noodles as a cell phone strap.

Remember these words, and if you see me playing pocket pool in the future, you'll know I'm just caressing my noodles. Plural.

Noodles du Jour: Hong Kong Style Seafood Chow Mein from Hong Kong Lounge

2010-07-09T09:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Leilani's birthday and we took her to Hong Kong Lounge for a dim sum lunch, her S.O. having first dibs on her for dinner. Our anchor dish was a Hong Kong-style seafood chow mein (identified on the menu as "pan fried noodles"). I'm not a big fan generally of the fine egg and wheat noodles beloved in Hong Kong, especially in soups like the iconic wonton mein; they make me feel like I'm chewing on someone's hair. When used in "Hong Kong style" chow mein, however it's another matter.

In Hong Kong style chow mein the fine noodles are pan-fried to a crisp and topped with a moist topping. The topping serves to soften the noodles on top, leading to a satisfying combination of textures (and flavors, if the topping delivers as it should). A key is having some of the bottom noodles browned, even burnt, to accent the crunchiness and sharpen the flavor, much as the crunchy bits of burnt rice do in a good bibimbap or a Chinese clay pot rice dish.

Our chow mein at Hong Kong Lounge came generously topped with shrimp, scallops and cuttlefish, and was vegged up with bok choy and carrot chunks, infusing the whole construction with subtle but savory flavor. If I could fault anything, it's that Hong Kong Lounge's chow mein seemed to be lacking its full complement of browned/burnt noodle bits -- I had to fish for mine. Overall, I found the dim sum above average and modestly priced. Our whole set (slide show here) of eight dim sum plates plus a communal bowl of congee and the chow mein filled the four of us to satiety for under $50 before tax & tip. Service was good, and the ambience agreeable. I'll be happy to return, though I might just try a chow fun as an anchor dish the next tine.

Where munched: Hong Kong Lounge, 5322 Geary Street, San Francisco

Four for New York: Hand-pulled Noodles in Flushing and Manhattan

2010-06-27T09:31:00.000-07:00

Hand-pulled noodles are viewed as a rare and wondrous thing in San Francisco, where I usually sit. I have seen gawking crowds viewing noodle pulling demonstrations by "chefs" in full whites in the middle of Union Square, and the discovery of a new hand-pulled noodle venue anywhere in the Bay Area is passed around in hushed, almost reverential tones. In China, by contrast, hand-pulled noodles are all but the lowest common denominator in comfort foods, with self-indentified "Lanzhou" la mian establishments on nearly every street corner dispensing a hearty bowl of fresh noodles for 3-5 Chinese Yuan, or about 50-75 cents. Pulling noodles, while it requires a skill that comes from practice, is physically demanding "mule work" in a busy noodle shop, and more often than not assigned to the youngest, most strapping member of the cooking family.

Fortunately for those of us who love fresh noodles, the burgeoning Chinese population in New York is pushing its food culture in the direction of la mian as a necessity and away from la mian as a novelty. In a recent visit to New York four hand-pulled noodle shops (including one that drew multiple visits from me) ended up in my mix of small eats venues, and I'm sure I could have found more with due diligence. All four were excellent values, serving up a good-sized bowl of fresh beef noodles in a broth with a distinct personality for $4-$5.00. Two were in Flushing, and two were in the East Broadway vicinity of Manhattan's Chinatown; two were served with a typical Lanzhou-style clear broth, and two with a more strongly flavored, brown colored Taiwanese-y broth. The four are profiled below

Kuai An La Mian Hand Pulled Noodle [Pictured at top]
28 Forsyth St., Manhattan

Kuai An La Mian was formerly know (and loved) as Eastern Noodle. I didn't have the opportunity of trying it under the earlier regime, though I can't imagine it's lost much if anythin, as the noodles were fresh and delicous. This was one the two with a dark broth. A pleasant place to sit, with a view of the vegetable market along the Manhattan Bridge landing.
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Lanzhou Handmade Noodles
Golden Mall, 41-28 Main St., Flushing

This is my favorite place for hand-pulled noodles to date in New York, partly for the just-like-China ambience of the Golden Mall food court, as well as the proximity (an arm's reach away) of Xi'an Famous Foods, where I can grab a lamb a lamb rou jia mo to add a little tasty protein to my dinner. Come here at 10:00 at night on a steamy evening (bringing your own beer), and you'll find it jumping. Pictured above is the more expensive eel noodles (which I found too sweet to my taste); I was too quick to dive into the excellent beef noodles to snap a picture. They use a clear Lanzhou-style broth here; I recommend the beef tendon noodles.
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Lan Zhou Hand Made Noodle & Dumpling
96 E. Broadway, Manhattan

I stumbled across this place on my way from the 88 E. Broadway Mall (of Xi'an Famous Foods #3 renown) to the F Train station and had to give it a go. It was quiet in the middle of a weekday afternoon (with only one other table occupied) but has an extensive menu and good, fresh noodles. Despite the name, the broth in the beef brisket noodles I had was more of the Taiwanese style, even to the faintly medicinal taste characteristic of Taiwan's beef noodles. The noodles, however, were definitely Lanzhou style in thickness and shape.
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Lanzhou Hand Drawn Noodles
Flushing Mall Food Court, 133-31 39th Ave., Flushing

This was a repeat visit for me, but the first since I put a lot of "genuine" Lanzhou noodles under my belt in Shanghai. Like the noodles at the Golden Mall (though neither the shops not the malls are related) the broth is of the clear Lanzhou style, though the noodles seemed a bit thicker than is characteristic, and the inclusion of bok choy was also atypical. This is not to fault the noodles, which were tasty and fresh. I was there at dinner time, and the shop was lacking in business; indeed, the whole food court seems depressingly like a ghost town except for clusters of activity at the far end from the unfortunately located noodle shop.

Ramen Porn for Your iPad

2010-06-23T10:21:00.000-07:00

It seems that the iPad will have something for everybody, and that includes noodle lovers, at least those of the ramen persuasion. Look for RamenWalker Tokyo and RamenWalker Yokohama applications in the iTunes app store. As far as I can tell, they are just magazines you can flip through, but here is the publisher's description of Ramenwalker Tokyo:

"Ramen Walker Tokyo 2010" Magazine is Published from Kadokawa Marketing Inc.
Contents of This Magazine is linked with "Ramen Walker Web" social web site. It registrated 30,000 shops or more, and mouth‐to‐mouth topics and review data from Ramen People as latest information.
This issue is understand all about of the Ramen for Tokyo area.
This Free version is can download until the end of July.

In other words, "All your iPad are belong to us."

Think Pink: Yen Ta Fo at Lers Ros Thai

2010-06-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

On a foray to Lers Ros, the local foodies' New Best Thai Restaurant Friend last week, the notion for a noodles-only blog was already bubbling on the stove of my mind and I decided to take a flyer on something totally new to me, yen ta fo. Yen ta fo, which is เย็นตาโฟ in Thai, according to one thread on Chowhound.com (but don't hold me to that) is an eccentric rice noodle-based chowderish soup which seems to feature seafood prominently or exclusively. What's eccentric about it is the color of the broth, which is pink. It doesn't really come through in the photo above, but the broth in my yen ta fo was not red, but pink: shocking pink; Day-glo pink; Hello Kitty pink. It was a food color that Dr. Seuss could have dreamed up.

The pink of yen ta fo apparently comes from the fact that the soup broth was traditionally made with red/pink colored tofu (like to Chinese hong doufu ru, which was itself probably colored with red yeast rice). The yen ta fo at Lers Ros consisted of rice noodles (choice of vermicelli, regular width or broad flat noodles) in the sweet-sour-spicy pink broth, and a generous amount of shrimp, fish balls (said to be a necessary ingredient), cuttlefish, veggies, and what may have been thinly sliced dried tofu. The complex broth had a good chili kick, perhaps emphasized by contrast with the Barbie Doll coyness of its color, and the soup soup as a whole made a very satisfying light meal.

The yen ta fo ($7.25 for a large bowl) is something I'd definitely order again at Lers Ros, and look for at other Thai restaurants.

Where slurped: Lers Ros Thai Restaurant, 730 Larkin St., San Francico

Slurp du Jour: Pork Bowl From Hapa Ramen

2010-06-17T20:04:00.000-07:00

Hapa Ramen is an enterprise that has been operating as a popup at various Yuppie-Chuppie venues and broke into the lineup of food stalls at the Ferry Building's Thursday Market as of today, ensuring it a fixed location, at least once a week. Offerings are currently limited to slow-cooked pork, fried chicken, or veggie bowls for $10. Extra toppings or a sous vide fried egg (to show originality, I suppose) are $1.50 additional.

My pork ramen was attractively presented, as seen in the photo above (blame the Ferry Building Market operators for the tacky strawberry tablecloth on the community table). Unfortunately, it was more sho-yu than go-yu, with a banal salty broth, a decent amount of tender though bland pork and noodles that were markedly under-cooked. This last failing may have been due to my timing, as I was there early (on account of the Anthony Bourdain signing) and got one of the first bowls served, around 10:30.

Even if Hapa gets its egg-timer up and running, though, it's not a meal I'd be likely to repeat. $10 for a smallish plastic bowl of noodles doesn't offer a lot of lunchtime value, even in this pricey neighborhood. Yes, I recently paid $14 with fewer regrets for a bowl at Ippudo Ramen in New York, but it was a much larger portion of well cooked noodles in a beautiful ceramic bowl. And not a strawberry tablecloth in sight.