Killer Dumplings at Tanxia Wang Fu Zhou Cuisine

I'm back.

Like I said in my brief post repping for Real Cheap Eats, the past month and a half was spent almost exclusively preparing for (and ultimately losing) a trial. That's over now, and I've returned with one of the choicest pieces of Chinatown knowledge I've acquired in ages. Tanxia Wang Fu Zhou Cuisine is on Eldrigde, just south of well known hand-pulled noodle spot Sheng Wang, serving a succinct menu of Fujian classics.

The dumplings here are the main draw, and they're brought steaming on styrofoam plates almost as soon as you've snagged a seat (sometimes before you've even finished ordering). The waitresses speak barely any English, but you can always point at the menu along the long, constantly crowded wall. It's a busy spot, but turnover is high, so you're likely to find a seat soon enough.

Back to the dumplings. They're filled with copious greens mixed in loosely amidst slightly sweet, ground pork. With just a bit of grease–enough to coat your mouth, alerting you to the presence of fatty pork juice–these dumpling don't easily wear out their welcome. The dumpling skin (likely a commercial wrapper), is just thin enough and more than up to the task.

At just $9 for a bag of 50, it's worth bringing some home. 

Yat Yat Sweet: Sweet and Stinky

Growing up in Rochester, I'll admit to being completely ignorant of Chinese food. But after being introduced to Cantonese cuisine during a trip to Hong Kong and a rudimentary education via MW, I'm proud to say that now I'm only mostly ignorant of Chinese food. But when YC introduced me to a rather unique dessert last week, I just knew that I had to write about it.

The Glorious Muslim Lamb Chop

I had dinner at Fu Run in Flushing with a large group last week. While I don't plan on writing about the whole meal, I want to highlight the "Muslim Lamb Chop," a cult favorite among Flushing food fans.

From what I can tell, the lamb "chop" (it's actually a whole breast of lamb) is braised, then fried and covered in heaps of cumin and black and white sesame seeds. The meat, which pulls right off the bone, still retains a bit of chew, while the familiar Northern Chinese flavors of gamey lamb funk + cumin fills your nostrils. The best bits were the chewy, crusty edges slathered in cumin. Even after being devoured, a pile of cumin remained atop the fully soaked piece of lettuce.

It's the dish so nice we ordered it twice.


Fu Run
40-09 Prince Street
Flushing, NY 11354
(718) 321-1363

The Flavors of Henan

On a Chowhounder's report, it was impossible to avoid the newest, most unique addition to Chinatown (especially since I was conveniently in the area for dinner). That night, we found ourselves at Henan Flavor. On Forsyth across from Sarah Roosevelt Park, Henan Flavor is the Manhattan branch of Flushing's Henan Fengwei. Billing itself as the "First Henan Restaurant in East America," there really is nothing like Henan Flavor in all of Chinatown.

Robyn Lee took much better pictures of our meal at the original location than my typically crappy photography, but be aware, they show the expanded menu at Henan Fengwei. Here, there are no cold dishes or casseroles, but the abbreviated menu features handmade noodle soups and the imposing "Big Tray of Chicken."

For a Sunday night between 9-10pm, the narrow restaurant was actually fairly full, with people coming in and out for eat in and takeout. The lady running the show is actually Fujianese, which is probably good for business, since this part of Chinatown is their territory.

Hung Ry: The Gentrification of Hand-Pulled Noodles

Chinese culture dates back thousands of years, and similarly, its food has evolved and expanded over that incredible amount of time. It could take an eternity to sample and truly understand all the nuances of this vast (and delicious) cuisine. So it takes some major cojones for a gwai lo to open a new restaurant that features hand-pulled noodles, a specialty of Lanzhou. Yet that's exactly what Amadeus Bogner did when he opened Hung Ry last fall. Surprisingly, the restaurant has quickly won over the hearts (and stomachs) of both critics and New Yorkers alike. Together with former Cru chef Michael Hodgkins, they embarked on a tour of Chinatown's hand-pulled noodle joints before putting an ad in a local newspaper "seeking master hand-pulled noodle maker," and eventually hired two: Tho, who works days, and Chen, who works nights. Despite some enthusiastic Yelp reviews and four stars from NY Mag's the Robs, I still wasn't fully convinced that these highfalutin noodles were any better than the comparatively lowbrow versions served at the likes of Super Taste and Sheng Wang on Eldridge. Two visits in and I'm still undecided. While Hung Ry's upside (eat your heart out Jay Bilas) is certainly higher than anything found in Chinatown, that doesn't necessarily guarantee better results.

Xi'an Famous Foods Goes Mainstream

Looking for a cheap, quick dinner before the Built to Spill show at Irving Plaza on Wednesday night,  Xi'an Famous Foods on St. Marks was the obvious choice. I've been a regular at the newest outpost since it first opened in late June (I was there on opening day for my free pork burger too-- yes I'm very special-- now who wants to touch me?).

I met my friends Dave and Eric at my apartment for a few pre-show beers before heading down to Second Avenue to look for a cab. The competition was vicious. An elderly couple jockeyed for position with younger businessmen while every cab going downtown was full of passengers. We pulled our first karmic dick move of the night by walking up a block, sidestepping our fiercest competitors. The second occurred soon thereafter, when Dave hailed a cab going down a side street while a guy our age watched helplessly at the corner. He really should have said something, but this is NYC, so anything goes. We did have to circle back around and got stuck in some hellish traffic on our way downtown, so our fare was an extra five dollars. That was plenty of karmic comeuppance right? Either that or we figured Dave would get hit by a car to balance out the universe.

The Flushing Conundrum

With some free time on Friday, Steve and I decided to make a Flushing excursion. I also had the ulterior motive of wanting to check out some of the grocery stores in the area for more Sichuan ingredients.

As usual, we were met with what should be dubbed "The Flushing Conundrum." Essentially, it's the never ending struggle between the desire to try one of the thousands of different restaurants in the neighborhood, against the urge to eat at an old favorite. We decided to split the difference.

Our first stop was (old favorite) Chengdu Heaven, in the basement of the Golden Shopping Mall. I want to eat the whole menu here. We ordered some new dishes, but as I do every time, I got the house salad.

Conquering Dan Dan Noodles

Wait... did I just make the best dan dan noodles I've ever eaten? I wasn't sure, so I took a second bite, feeling the numbing sensation envelop my lips. A third bite confirmed that these noodles were killer. Yet, I still couldn't quite believe that I had just made what was long my favorite Sichuan dish. It took minimal effort, in my own kitchen, far from the streets of Chengdu where this recipe originated.

Fuschia Dunlop's Land of Plenty contains two dan dan noodle recipes (pp. 88-89). One is oily and uses black vinegar, while the other, "Xie Laoban's," is thickened and made "saucy" by the addition of sesame paste (I used tahini, which Dunlop says is an acceptable substitute). The latter is by far my preferred version.

The prep is amazingly simple. For the sauce, all I needed was fresh-roasted, ground Sichuan pepper, light and dark soy sauce, tahini and a bunch of chili oil (I found a flavorful version from Sichuan Province). The meat topping called for ground beef, preserved vegetables and dried chiles. I didn't have ground beef, but there was a piece of pork shoulder sitting in my freezer that I defrosted then ground up in the Cuisinart. Before I ground the pork, I took some fat off the shoulder and rendered it for the mushrooms (see below). I also need to make another trip to Chinatown to find the proper "heaven facing" chiles. I just substituted some generic dried red chiles.

The preserved vegetables I had bought earlier that day had a strong salty kick, so I rinsed them off (as recommended) before adding them to the pork sauteing in my skillet. Due to the saltiness of the ingredients, this dish needed very little added seasoning, and I only sprinkled a little salt over the pork (no other salt was added and the dish turned out perfectly salty).

Ghetto mise.

With the prep completed, all that was left was to cook the noodles and assemble the ingredients. I used "Twin Marquis" brand fresh flat wheat noodles, which sounds like a type of Detroit-made car, but these noodles are actually common in Chinese markets. They only took three minutes to cook, and once they were finished I combined them with the sauce and meat mixtures.

In The Land of Plenty, The Man Who Wings it is King

Per my usual method of jumping into something headfirst with great enthusiasm, but without fully having an idea of what I'm doing (cooking only, never legal), I found myself wandering through Chinatown markets on a sunny Monday afternoon in search of common Sichuanese pantry ingredients. While browsing shelf upon shelf of indecipherable bottle, I decided on a whim I wanted to make Mother Chen's pockmarked bean curd, more famously known as mapo tofu. I had just started reading Land of Plenty, the Sichuanese cookbook by Fuschia Dunlop, and I was eager to cook some of my favorite dishes at home.

I spent what seemed like 20 minutes comparing the merits of various types of chile-bean paste while the counterwoman eyed me nervously. I eventually settled on a jar entitled “Pockmarked Grandma's  Bean Curd Seasoning.” Turns out I chose fairly well, as broad beans (aka fava beans) were the first ingredient, rather than soybeans (which Dunlop recommends to avoid). It was also made in Sichuan Province. I’m not completely sure, but I think it's just chile-bean paste with ginger and garlic added. I couldn't find fermented black beans (didn’t look hard enough), but I also picked up some Shaoxing wine, green onions and a package of firm tofu I found in the refrigerator section. Typically (and consistent with my lack of planning), I immediately passed a long line of people waiting to buy fresh tofu from a vendor. Next time dumbass.

I feel the need to digress before continuing. I dig this book, and plan on cooking a lot of the recipes inside. Plus, I have a food blog, so it seems only natural that I would document the process. BUT, I know what you are thinking, and I will be the first (and most vocal) person saying that I am NOT Julia & Julia, NOT French Laundry at Home, and NOT Momofuku for 2. Whatever the merits of these cookbook-dedicated-blogs (clogs? blookbooks? coo-de-blogs?), I have absolutely zero intention of turning into the "Land of Plenty at Home" Guy. This blog is called Law & Food, and I swear I will start writing lengthy legal posts about the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act before I do that (this scenario assumes that enough people would be interested in me as the Land of Plenty Guy in the first place, which I sincerely doubt).

Sorry I needed to get that rant out of the way before I could proceed.

Once I got home, I prepared my mise en place for my first official dish from Land of Plenty.

Not bad right? Not great either.

A little improvisation was required. I added bok choy to give make it heartier (and I didn’t want to make rice). The recipe also called for ground beef, but I’d overloaded on it during the weekend. I subbed in some leftover mushrooms to approximate the umami taste. I also only had birds-eye chilis, which Dunlop says are too spicy, so I only used a small amount. What I ended up missing most were the fermented black beans, which are what usually elevates mapo tofu for me (I also like it with a sprinkling of peanuts for some crunch).

Flor de Mayo: Fusion Gone Right

Remembering my first experience at Flor De Mayo brings me back to the beginning of my relationship. When I asked what the restaurant was like MW replied, “its this Chinese-Peruvian place on the Upper West Side.” Chinese-Peruvian? WTF is Chinese-Peruvian food? But in hindsight this combination of vastly different cuisines makes perfect sense. Peru, like so many South American countries is home to many ethnic groups and waves of Chinese immigrants settled in Peru hoping to stake a better life for themselves and their families after being shut out of America due to the Chinese Exclusion Act. I’ll spare you the history lesson but will tell you that the restaurant is owned by a Cantonese family and has been a favorite of MW and her friends for years. Flor De Mayo soon became a favorite of mine too.

MA LA MOTHERF*#KA!

I live for the sweating, euphoric feeling I get when throwing something spicy down my throat. This is especially true with the unique heat from the combination of Sichuan peppercorn and chiles known as "ma la" or spicy and tingly. Since I have recently taken some heat for my fiery views (yeah I'll stoop to wordplay), I would like to set the record straight.


Dumplings in chili oil, ordered "ma la."

It's the Year of the Tiger at Golden Steamer Bakery

Actually, just the tip of 2010 was the year of the cock.

I was down in Chinatown this past Sunday for the Chinese Lunar New Year parade on a friend's rooftop on Mott Street.

Casual Stereotyping at Lan Sheng, or Can a White Guy Get Some Real Szechuan Food?

In just the past couple months, Manhattan’s Szechuan options have exploded with a string of new restaurants specializing in this increasingly popular cuisine opening lately (there are also many cast-offs from the dying Wu Liang Ye chain). I decided to check out Lan Sheng, which debuted late last year, just down the street from the two-starred Szechuan Gourmet (what’s the Chinese word for chutzpah?)


Photo from Joe DiStefano, Serious Eats.

The M&T Experience

Late last year, I decided to check out M&T Restaurant. I'd wanted to try as many different types of regional Chinese food as possible, and here was one I'd never experienced. M&T serves food from Qingdao, a seaport city in the Shandong region. For obvious reasons, the food is seafood-heavy, but also not very spicy. Luckily, Qingdao is also the home of Tsingtsao beer, which is fantastic for washing it all down.