Cheng Du Heaven (成都天府)

Things are always changing in Flushing. Many of these changes are unwelcome ones, like the demise of Maple Snacks, the disappearance of Szechuan Dish, and the recent mediocre meal at Lao Dong Bei, ascribable to a different chef (one hopes this change is not a permanent one). But lately, I noticed that Cheng Du Heaven (成都天府 - chéng dū tiān fǔ), in the basement of the Golden Shopping Mall, has been, little by little, expanding its offerings – and seating area – while keeping quality high and prices low. And that it was high time it got its own blog entry here.

I remember the days when their menu was a single column of dishes listed on the wall by the counter. Now the menu boasts more than 50 dishes, with an additional 15 or 20 meal-sized soups, of both the má là tāng (麻辣湯 – the typical Sichuan spicy/tingly stews) and noodle soup varieties.

The "Wonton w/Chilli Oil Sauce" (紅油抄手 - hóng yóu chāo shǒu) appetizer is superb: practically perfect wontons in a beautifully balanced spicy sesame sauce.

While their Dan Dan Noodle (擔擔 面 – dàn dàn miàn) does not erase nostalgia for Sister Zhu's, it is one of the very best around. Another well-balanced spicy sauce lurks below those tender noodles. And the dusting of crispy-yet-tender minced pork is the perfect complement.

Their version of Ma La Beef Tendon (麻辣牛筋 – má là niú jīn) is as good as any around Flushing, too.

The Ma Po Tofu (麻婆豆腐 – má pó dòu fǔ) here is the best I've tasted in years. The tofu is soft, but not too soft, and the sauce is the perfect balance of spicy and salty, with just the right pungent accent from fermented black beans.

The only near-miss so far has been "Chicken with Family Sauce" (mmm... family sauce… my favorite!). A better translation of 家常熱窩鶏 (jiā cháng rè wō jī) would be “chicken home style”, and it was nice, but not all that interesting. Small bone-in chunks of chicken are lightly simmered in a mildly spicy sauce with two or three kinds of peppers and scallion.

Interestingly, the leftover portion when heated up at home the next day was better than on the first day. The flavors were both better melded together and more pronounced. My friend Audrey tells me that the characters 熱窩 mean, essentially, "warm, but not too hot", making the preparation true to its name. I would just prefer the dish to have finished cooking, I suppose!

On the other hand, their dry-sautéed chicken (干煸鶏 - gān biān jī) is the tastiest version of this dish I have ever tasted, with lots of intense spicy and salty flavor. It's listed on the wall, rather amusingly, as "chicken with dire chillis".

Their Spicy Twice Cooked Pork (回锅肉 – huí guō ròu) is stellar – as good as any I've tried, with a real homemade quality to it.

Don't miss the array of appetizer dishes and snacks in the glass counter-case. The Ma La chicken wings are marvelous to keep around the house to snack on. And their Ma La Sausage (麻辣香 腸 – má là xiāng cháng) really is almost as good as Sister Zhu's from Maple Snacks:

And it's difficult to stop eating slices of their house-cured pork belly (成都臘肉 - chéng dū là ròu):

Cheng Du Heaven serves, for my money, the best Sichuan food in Flushing at the moment (Little Pepper is in College Point). Because of the very spartan dining environs, one might wish that some of the dishes were a buck or two cheaper, but it's still a great value.

Cheng Du Heaven (成都天府)
Golden Shopping Mall basement food court
41-28 Main St., Flushing 11355
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., then 3 blocks south on Main)

天津餡餅 (Tianjin Xian Bing)

For a couple of years now, one of my favorite Flushing snacks has been the stuffed bǐng from 天津餡餅 (Tianjin Xian Bing) at the Golden Shopping Mall. The stall is not downstairs in the "food court", but up at street level, with a window that opens out on Main St. The energetic proprietor definitely seems to know what he's doing - he's opened another stall downstairs that offers a wide variety of Tianjin-style dumplings and cold prepared dishes, and I must say, they all look delicious.

Xiàn bǐng (餡餅) is essentially a pancake that has been stuffed with minced meat, then cooked on a griddle. In addition to the three types of xiàn bǐng - beef, pork, and lamb - they have other snacks, such as scallion pancakes, but I tend to get there late enough in the day that things are rather picked over, so I don't quite recall just what else they make.

(I THINK the yellow thing in the bottom right corner is stuffed with chicken, which would make it a first cousin to the Portuguese salgado pastry coxa de galinha, a kind of drumstick-shaped empanada.)

I can attest, though, that all three varieties of xiàn bǐng are delicious, but only because last night I was finally able to snag a lamb bǐng (yáng ròu xiàn bǐng - 羊肉餡餅). This seems to be the most popular kind, since literally EVERY time I have asked for one in the past (which is every single visit), they were sold out. It's pretty great, though the pork and beef are hardly less great.

The filling is delicately-seasoned minced meat, with just a bit of minced carrot and scallion. A small meal for two bucks.

天津餡餅 (Tianjin Xian Bing)
41-28 Main St., Flushing 11355
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., then 3 blocks south on Main)

Kungfu Express cart

Next to the Northwestern Famous cart on Broadway by Columbia University is Kungfu Express, a cart run by a woman from Henan.

I asked for some guidance as to what I should try, and sure enough, she steered me toward the Henan-from-Xinjiang favorite dà pán jī, listed as "chicken over rice" (大盘鸡盖饭 - dà pán jī gài fàn , or over handmade wide noodles, if you prefer) on the posted menu. Of course, it's impossible with a cart to make each order on the spot like they do at HeNan Feng Wei, but she scooped up a nice, mild, homey version from a waiting pot: chunks of chicken stewed with potatoes, tree ear fungus, and just enough red pepper and spices to be interesting.

She also does some nice grilled skewers - over charcoal, no less! The Chinese sausage (烤香肠 - kǎo xiāng cháng) was delicious - sweet, with a bit more complexity of flavor than most Chinese sausages - and a chicken skewer I saw looked quite good - not the usual tiny chunks of meat.

Kungfu Express cart
Broadway, east side, @ 117th St., New York 10027
(1 train to 116th St.)

Northwestern Famous (中國西北名吃)

My neighborhood, Morningside Heights/Columbia University, like the Upper West Side in general, is a notorious wasteland when it comes to actual good food. Yes, there's Bombay Frankie, and an uptown outpost of Legend (though not blog-worthy, quite decent) recently opened on W. 109th St. But the scene recently brightened considerably with the arrival of Northwestern Famous (中國西北名吃), a.k.a. Uncle Luoyang (洛阳大叔) food cart by the main entrance of Columbia on Broadway.

中國西北名吃 (zhōng guó xī běi míng chī) means "China Northwest Famous Food", earning it a place on a very short list of establishments where the English name is an accurate translation of the Chinese one. My curiosity was definitely piqued wondering what, exactly, "Northwestern" refers to. The answer appears to be Shaanxi province (there's a lot of China further north and much further west than that, but I'm still getting acquainted with these subtleties of terminology). The signature offering is là zhī ròu jiā mó (腊汁肉夾饃), or "Stewed Pork Burger", a specialty from Xi'an. This is a first cousin to the cumin "lamb burger" sold at Xi'an Famous Foods (although pictured on the side panel of the cart, it's not actually on offer here at this time). The spices are milder, but the pork version is just as satisfying as the cumin lamb: juicy bits of long-simmered, ultra-flavorful meat in a round, wheat flatbread. (There is a highly informative article on traditional là zhī ròu jiā mó here.) A hearty snack for the princely sum of 3 dollars (the list menu in red letters seems to be the real menu here).

And now a woman from Henan has set up a cart next to Northwestern Famous, which I plan to check out soon. It's odd - I am utterly unaccustomed to actually wanting to eat in my neighborhood! Thank heaven some people with an entrepreneurial streak have finally figured out that there a LOT of Chinese students at Columbia that might like a taste of home. Here's hoping the trend continues.

Northwestern Famous (中國西北名吃), a.k.a. Uncle Luoyang (洛阳大叔)
Broadway, east side, @ 117th St., New York 10027
(1 train to 116th St.)

Kung Fu Xiao Long Bao (功夫小龍包)

Until the other night, easily the best xiǎo lóng bāo (小龍包 - "soup dumplings", although foodies tend to refer to them as XLB) I had tried in New York were those served by Diverse Dim Sum in the Flushing Mall. They're excellent, but those at Kung Fu Xiao Long Bao (功夫小龍包) are even better. Thin, translucent wrappers, meat and crab fillings of the proper texture, and tasty broth - all are as they should be. Perhaps enjoying them in a comfortable, tranquil restaurant environment - as opposed to a food court - gives them the edge, but I think they actually are slightly better.

On offer here is a decent-sized menu with a lot of standard Shanghai dishes, and a large selection of breakfast, Shanghai dim sum, and noodle soups. In addition to xiǎo lóng bāo, most of the Chinese patrons had noodle soups on the table, and they looked excellent. We were not, however, in the mood for soup, so we got other stuff. The cold appetizer called "Shanghai Special Chicken" turned out the be the house version of wine-marinated (or "drunken") chicken (sān huáng jī - 三黃鷄), the nicest take on this dish I've ever tried.

(The literal translation of the name of this dish is "three yellow chicken", and it appears that "three yellow" can refer to, among other things, a particular breed of chicken.)

Shredded Beef with Chili Pepper (xiǎo jiāo niú ròu sī - 小椒牛肉絲) is another very good dish: beef shreds stir-fried with shredded spicy green peppers and onion. Clean, fresh flavors, nicely balanced. I have friends that liked to order this dish at New Green Bo (now called Nice Green Bo, an especially ironic name considering the disposition of most of the staff) in Manhattan's Chinatown, way back when that was an acceptable place to go for people who like food (this was a long time ago)... Kung Fu Xiao Long Bao's is on another, higher plane entirely.

For me, the real revelation here is the Braised DongPo Pork (rě wèi dōng pō ròu - 惹味東坡肉). The expression rě wèi means "rich" (with thanks to Audrey Lo - I would never have figured that one out on my own) - a seemingly unnecessary modifier, since DongPo Pork (pork belly slow-braised in wine, soy sauce, and sugar) is itself a pretty rich dish to begin with. It comes in what looks like a large coffee cup or tiny soup tureen, fragrant with star anise and cassia (and looking almost like chocolate pudding, or raw liver):

As it turns out the 惹味 is not, in fact, descriptive overkill - this really is the richest, most flavorful version of this dish I have ever tried. It's pretty extraordinary. (The picture of a slice of it on rice did not turn out well at all, but perhaps it gives you an idea.)

Kung Fu Xiao Long Bao (功夫小龍包)
59-16 Main St., Flushing 11355
718-661-2882
website

Rural (興順逹)

Flushing sure has a lot of good Dongbei restaurants these days. Tonight I joined a small group of Chowhounders at Rural (興順逹) (the Chinese name seems to be one of those names chosen for its "good omen" quality and has nothing to do with the concept of anything rural). I thought I had eaten there before a while back, but when I walked in, I realized my memory had confused it with the restaurant next door. There is a reason I never blogged about the other one... Rural, on the other hand, is very good.

It's great to be able to try a lot of dishes, and, as is to be expected, there were some real hits as well as some near-misses. As anyone with a passing acquaintance with this blog will have gleaned by now, I am most definitely a carnivore, tending to be rather less interested in seafood. The scallion conch (葱油螺片 - cōng yóu luó piàn) is one of the better conch dishes I've tried, but I think I'm just not destined to be terribly fond of conch. Some pieces were tender, others fairly chewy... overall, probably the least rubbery conch preparation I've had, with a nice fresh, briny flavor.

Another near-miss was the "Leek with Urechis Unicinctus", or stir-fried sea intestine (sea worms) with chives (韭菜海肠 - jiǔ cài hǎi cháng). This is a dish from Quindao (the owners of Rural are, I believe, from Lianoning) and it was much better at the now-defunct M & T. Still, not bad - like chewy squid-flavored hollow tubes. The general consensus was that the chives were nicer than the sea intestine.

The "Sarony Cumin Flounder" (孜然龍利 - zī rán long lì), however, was fantastic (it has been suggested that "sarony" is a misspelled "savory"... I have no clue). A whole flounder is covered in a dry cumin spice mixture (reminiscent of a spicier version of Lao Dong Bei's Xinjiang lamb chops), then wok-fried. The fish, enchantingly, emerges in the shape of the wok. I would happily eat that spice mixture on almost anything.

Dry Bean Curd with Spicy Pepper (尖椒干豆腐 - jiān jiāo gān dòu fǔ) is a very good version of this typical northern Chinese dish, with the welcome addition of some ground pork.

The stir-fried garlic sprouts (蒜薹 - suàn tái) was one of my favorite dishes on the table. It's not on the menu, but the hostess is happy to recommend things they have that day, and I'm very glad this was on offer. The firm-yet-tender sprouts are stir-fried with bits of beef and some oyster sauce. Delicious.

The hóng shāo ròu dùn yún dòu (紅燒肉炖芸豆) was, predictably, my favorite dish of the evening. Cubes of pork belly stewed with runner beans, chunks of potato, garlic, and dà pí (大皮 - mung bean starch noodles) - it's marvelous, and, in the words of the hostess, very Dongbei-style. Not on the menu, but definitely worth asking for.

I want to eat this dish again, but I think I'll probably wait until winter to do it - it's very warming.

Cold appetizers were good, and an apparent specialty of the house. Crystal Pig Skin (pig skin in aspic - 水晶猪皮凍 - shuǐ jīng zhū pí dòng) was on every table but ours (in fact, one table had nothing but several of the cold appetizers). Preserved Egg with Tofu (皮蛋豆腐 - pí dàn dòu fǔ) was very mild and comforting:

Conversely, the Ox Tongue and Tripe with Spicy Pepper Sauce (夫妻肺片 - fū qī fèi piàn) was a bolder version than usual, heavy on the Sichuan peppercorn and soy sauce, and incorporating a wider variety of intestinal tract bits than what's normal for this dish (notice the honeycomb tripe):

Rounding out the feast was an assortment of excellent dumplings, a good deal at 6 bucks for 20:

I'd suggest going early or late - the restaurant is quite small - only 6 tables - and there seems to be a group of hardcore regulars. Partway through our meal, we were given the quite definite impression by an arriving group that we had taken "their" table.

All in all, an excellent meal. I'm not sure how often I'll get back here, though - the existence of the wonderful Lao Dong Bei means most of my northern Chinese cravings will be satisfied there first.

Rural (興順逹)
42-85 Main St., Flushing 11355
718-353-0086
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then 8 blocks south on Main St.)

White Bear (白熊)

Posting about the wontons in red oil (紅油餛飩 - hóng yóu hún tún, or just ask for No. 6) at White Bear (白熊) is something I can't believe I haven't done... I've been meaning to forever. Quite simply, it's one of my favorite snacks in New York.

White Bear is run by a couple from Shandong, and their handmade wontons are, to this American, astonishing. The wontons are almost dumplings, really - the biggest difference is the wrapper. But what a difference it is: the wrappers are firm yet delicate, almost gossamer, and literally melt in your mouth. They enclose a pork and chive filling that is equally delicate in texture and seasoning. The red-pepper-infused oil is surprisingly mild, but the scallions, dried sumac, and the earthy-tasting chopped pickled vegetable create an overall flavor that is complex and infinitely satisfying. Every time I eat this dish, I want it to go on forever.

A bargain at $4.50 for 10 meaty wontons.

Their sesame noodles are simple and delicious, and quite popular, and they do a brisk take-away business of frozen dumplings to prepare at home.

White Bear (白熊)
135-02 Roosevelt Ave. (entrance on Prince St.),
Flushing 11354
718-961-2322
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then one block west on Roosevelt)

Li's (李記拉麵刀削麵) (New World Mall)

The stall formerly known as Sliced Noodle in the northeast corner of the New World Mall food court has received a facelift in the past few months. Now twice its former size, it sports a nifty new façade and a new name: Li’s (李記). Actually, the Chinese characters that sprawl across the façade say 李記拉麵刀削麵 (lǐ jì lā miàn dāo xiāo miàn, or "Li Ji" pulled noodle and knife-shaved noodle). The English fine-print signage also says "Lanzhou Hand-Stretched Noodles" and "Shanxi Sliced Noodles".

And with all the different place-names mentioned in its menu and signs, there is no mention (in English, anyway) that this place is actually Henan (in its "Sliced Noodle" days there were Chinese characters indicating that on prominent display). The menu, consisting mostly of dumplings, noodle soups and other noodle dishes, is quite similar to that of Henan Feng Wei and Uncle Zhou’s. They even have that Henan favorite from Xinjiang, dà pán jī (新疆大盤雞 - xīn jiāng dà pán jī), or "big tray o’ chicken" (there’s a description and picture of it in my post about Henan Feng Wei).

If you order hand-pulled noodles (拉麵 - lā miàn), the noodle guy comes up front and pulls some fresh for your dish:

Order some knife-shaved noodles (刀削麵 - dāo xiāo miàn), and if you position yourself toward the right-hand side of the counter, you can catch a glimpse of him shaving off the noodles from a block of dough into a pot on a stove in the back.

But when I come here, I can’t resist the pan-fried dumplings (開口鍋貼 - kāi kǒu guō tiē). They are made "open-mouth" style (開口 - kāi kǒu), i.e. not sealed up on the ends, and fried together in a pan in such a way that a starchy film connects the all the guō tiē, which are then turned out onto a plate.

And here’s one of the dumplings, open end visible and some crispy starchy film attached (it can be tricky when using chopsticks to keep the meat from slipping out of its sheath):

Have them with a mixture of hot pepper oil and black vinegar. Along with those at Nán Běi Shuǐ Jiǎo (南北水餃, in the Golden Shopping Mall), some of my favorite dumplings in Flushing. At $4.99 for eight, they’re not cheap, but still a good value.

Li's (李記拉麵刀削麵) - New World Mall food court, stall 12
Main & Roosevelt (enter on Roosevelt), Flushing 11354
718-888-9393
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing)

More Szechuan Dish (美四川) (CLOSED)

It didn’t take me long to return to the purveyors of the greatest noodle dish in New York and keep my promise – I had ròu shào dòu huā miàn (肉紹豆花面) this evening. And it lived up to its promise – a really lovely dish.

What you can’t see below the surface of ground pork, soft tofu (豆花 - dòu huā - literally means "bean flower"), and roasted peanuts is that it’s a deep bowl full of noodles. The broth is spicy but not overpoweringly so, with the barest hint of sourness. There’s just enough of it to keep the noodles from sticking together, but not so much that it becomes a soup. It’s rather like noodles flavored with a delicate má pó dòu fǔ (麻婆豆腐). Works for me!

Delicious as this is, my heart still belongs to ròu shào gān nǎn miàn. Either one, though - or just about anything else they make - is sufficiently good reason to make a special trip to Beautiful Sichuan (the Chinese name of Szechuan Dish is měi sì chuān, or "beautiful Sichuan").

Szechuan Dish (美四川) - New World Mall food court
Main & Roosevelt (enter on Roosevelt), Flushing 11354
718-353-4957
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing)

The greatest noodle dish in New York (CLOSED)

Tonight I ate a noodle dish that temporarily eradicated memories of all other noodle dishes I've ever eaten - it was that good - at Szechuan Dish (美四川), in the food court of the New World Mall. I wrote previously that on my first visit, ròu shào dòu huā miàn (肉紹豆花面 - noodles with soft tofu and pork) had piqued my interest to try the next time. But, for some reason, I skipped right over it this evening and ordered ròu shao gān nǎn miàn (肉紹干煵面 - sliced noodles with Szechuan chili-minced pork and peanut). It is, I think, the greatest noodle dish I've ever tried.

The picture does not begin to do justice to the magic of this dish. First off, the knife-shaved noodles are the most delicate I have ever encountered. They are positively light, almost lacy. In the bottom of the dish is a sauce of hot oil and spices, and sprinkled on top are minced pork, crushed peanut, and some chopped scallions. It is more than the sum of its parts, and eating it must be something akin to what Nirvana is like.

I was a bit puzzled by the Chinese name of the dish, and my thanks to Miss Audrey Lo for helping me decipher it (okay, for doing most of the deciphering for me). It seems that 干煵面 (gān nǎn miàn) is a type of noodle dish with lightly-fried sauce (apparently dàn dàn miàn (担担面) and my beloved zhá jiàng miàn (炸酱面) are both varieties of gān nǎn miàn), and 肉紹 (ròu shao) refers to the addition of minced pork.

And for the first time that I can remember, I had to know the name of the person who made this dish. His name is Yáng Kūn Qián (阳坤乾), and, as I noted before, is from Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan. This man can COOK.

Divine as those noodles were, they weren't quite a meal, so I decided try the hóng yóu chāo shǒu, wontons in red hot oil (or "Wontons in Roasted Chili Sauce" - 紅油抄手). By now not unexpectedly, the greatest version of these I've tried. They're quite similar in style to Little Pepper's - the red oil is practically a broth - but with MUCH bolder flavors. The wontons are meaty and HUGE... I've been served smaller dumplings than these.

Next visit I'm definitely going to sample that ròu shào dòu huā miàn. I swear.

Szechuan Dish (美四川) - New World Mall food court
Main & Roosevelt (enter on Roosevelt), Flushing 11354
718-353-4957
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing)

Szechuan Dish - 美四川 (New World Mall) (CLOSED)

Quite a few stalls in the New World Mall food court have closed recently, followed by some new arrivals. For me, the most interesting of the newcomers, open just six days, is Szechuan Dish (美四川) in stall 25, sharing the southeast corner with the wonderful Tian Fu.

Manning the counter is an energetic and engaging young fellow named Michael who will happily explain any dish to you (his English is great - no language barrier here). I quickly guessed this was a family operation, and sure enough, his mother and father are the ones cooking in the kitchen. They are from Chengdu (the round badge in their sign has Chinese characters that mean "Chendgu flavor"), and are serving some dishes I have not encountered in New York before. I was told they import from Chengdu the preserved tofu used in the cold dish cōng xiāng dòu jīn (葱香豆筋), shreds of preserved tofu (often called "bean gluten") in a vinegar-scallion sauce, a dish of which they seem especially proud. And with good reason - it's unique and delicious: the bracing sauce is the perfect counterpoint to the heartiness of the slightly chewy preserved tofu shreds.

Also new to me is liáng bàn xīn shé (凉拌心舌), a cold "salad" of sliced heart and tongue in chili oil. It's marvelous - sort of the pig's response to the famous Sichuan dish fū qī fèi piàn (夫妻肺片) - ox tongue and tripe.

They're keeping it fairly simple to start off, with plans to expand the menu a bit later. So for now, there are dumplings in red hot oil (hóng yóu shuǐ jiǎo - 紅油水餃), some interesting-sounding noodle dishes (I'm quite eager to try ròu shào dòu huā miàn - 肉紹豆花面 - noodles with soft tofu and pork), and several other cold dishes. These include a má là crispy fish to rival Sister Zhu's of the now-defunct-but-resurrecting-at-some-future-date Savor Fusion (where is she now, anyway?), and the delightful liáng bàn jīn zhēn gū (凉拌金针菇) - enoki mushrooms in a tangy sauce. That's it there on the lower right:

So, stop by and welcome them to the neighborhood. You'll be rewarded with some unusual - and unusually tasty - cooking.

Szechuan Dish - New World Mall food court
Main & Roosevelt (enter on Roosevelt), Flushing 11354
718-353-4957
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing)
New World Mall food court website

Sheng Wang - Wall Menu (CLOSED)

A few weeks ago, I noticed that Sheng Wang had posted some hand-written menus on the wall. At least some of the items were definitely new, and when I recognized the characters for zhá jiang miàn (炸酱面), I got excited - I have rarely encountered a zhá jiang miàn I have not enjoyed, at least on some level. My expectations were, in fact, exceeded. This is probably now my favorite zhá jiang miàn in New York City (at least the Chinese version of the dish - the best Korean jja jang myun is another discussion entirely), followed closely by that of HeNan Flavor. Sheng Wang's wonderful hand-pulled noodles are topped with a generous dollop of a thick sauce sweet with stewed onions and bean paste, tiny chunks of hand-minced pork, and just enough hot-pepper kick to liven things a bit up and keep it from being cloying. Comfort on a (styrofoam) plate for 4 bucks.

Also on the wall menu is 元宵圆 (yuán xiāo yuán - Lantern Festival sweet dumpling), a dish I have also enjoyed at Happy Garden Palace. They look rather like their potato balls, but whiter - the dumplings are made with glutinous rice flour, filled with the same pork filling (that's MY kind of sweet dumpling!). Like everything else here, a bargain at 10 for $3.00.

The rest of the wall menu offerings are as follows (many, many thanks to Miss Audrey Lo for her help in deciphering the hand-written characters!):

1. lǔ wèi - stewed dishes

2. lǔ yā chì - stewed duck wing (2/$1.50)

3. lǔ dà cháng - stewed pork intestine ($3.50)

4. lǔ yā zhuǎ - stewed duck feet (4/$1.00)

5. lǔ niú ròu pīn pán - stewed beef combo cold platter ($5.00)

6. chǎo lā miàn - fried hand-pulled noodle

7. mǐ fěn - rice noodle

8. niú ròu chǎo lā miàn - beef fried noodle ($6.00) This dish is not new, and has been one of my favorites here for quite a while:

9. huā gé chǎo lā miàn - clam fried noodle ($6.50)

10. dà cháng chǎo lā miàn - pork intestine fried noodle ($6.00)

11. hǎi xiān chǎo lā miàn -seafood fried noodle ($6.50)

12. yáng dǔ chǎo lā miàn - lamb tripe fried noodle ($6.50)

13. zhá jiang miàn ($4.00)

14. yuán xiāo - Lantern Festival dumplings ($3.00)

15. běn lóu chǎo lā miàn - house fried noodle ($7.00)

16. yóu yú chǎo lā miàn - squid fried noodle ($6.50)

17. niú nǎn chǎo lā miàn - beef flank fried noodle ($6.00)

18. shāo yā chǎo lā miàn - roast duck fried noodle ($6.50)

19. niú zá chǎo lā miàn - beef offal fried noodle ($6.00)

There is also a sign that advertises hot or cold mung bean soup (lǜ dòu tāng) for $2.00.

Sheng Wang
27 Eldridge St., New York 10002
212-925-0805

Spicy Road (四海居), Pt. 3

Good things are still happening at Spicy Road. They continue to tweak their menu, and a new version was unveiled just this past week, with some new dishes. I was a bit dismayed to notice new prices for some of the old dishes, too, but eating here is still firmly within the "good value" category. There are many dishes here one should know about - what follows is just a small sampling.

On a recent visit, it seemed that one particular dish was on every table in the restaurant... what was one to do but order it, too? There was a reason everyone in the house had ordered it: Xinjiang Style Sautéed Sliced Beef (新疆炒肥牛 - xīn jiāng chǎo féi niú) is fantastic. Thin slices of beef belly - reminiscent of pork belly in all the best ways - are stir-fried with hot green peppers and scallions, and topped with a generous sprinkling of cilantro.

Sautéed Elbow with Seafood and Double Winter Vegetables (雙冬海鮮扒肘子 - shuāng dōng hǎi xiān bā zhǒu zǐ) is a dish that could only come from northern China. "Elbow" (肘子 - zhǒu zǐ) turns out to be pork hock, and which is braised in a brown sauce with bamboo shoot, black mushrooms, scallion, and sea cucumber - an interesting texture counterpoint - served with a ring of steamed broccoli florets. Surprisingly subtle and delightful.

Smiling Pan-broil Dumpling (開口鍋貼 - kāi kǒu guō tiē) turns out to be a generous portion of open dumplings, fried pot-sticker style, with your choice of filling. The best version of these I know of in Flushing.

Pork in Orange Sauce (鍋包肉 - guō bāo ròu) is yet another winner. Thin rectangles of pork almost the size of file cards are covered in a thin layer of batter and fried, then tossed in a sauce of orange, white raisins, currants and pine nuts, then sprinkled with sesame seeds.

Yun Gui Chuan Hot & Spicy Chicken (云貴川香麻辣子雞 - yún guì chuān xiāng má là zǐ jī) turns out to be small chunks of chicken stir-fried with dried red peppers, lots of Sichuan peppercorn, and some sort of snack mix, replete with cracker sticks and a close relative of Wheat Chex! It's the same idea as the late, lamented M & T Restaurant's Fei Hong chicken - I can only assume the Yun Gui Chuan refers to some sort of snack.

One of the new menu items is Kua Style Fish in Casserole (砂锅跨炖鱼 - shā guō kuà guā dùn yú). I must admit to being a bit stumped by the name... 砂锅 (clay pot), 炖 (stewed), and 鱼 (fish) are all self-explanatory. But 跨??  Kuà mean "cross" or "jump over". What arrives at ones table is a HUGE clay casserole of what is essentially a light, delicately-flavored hot and sour soup with egg, Chinese chives, and a a good-sized whole fish that has been previously sautéed. Perhaps this cross-pollination of cooking methods is the "crossing over" of the dish's name. In any case, it's marvelous.

It´s bigger than it looks, trust me.

Northeast Style Stew Pork (東北亂燉 - dōng běi luàn dùn) is a great dish for the coming fall and winter. The luàn of the name means "jumbled", and this stew is a jumbled riot of ingredients: chunks of pork belly, green beans, white cabbage, potato, black mushrooms, eggplant, tomato, and those wide, clear mung bean noodles (粉皮 -  fěn pí). Another quintessentially northern Chinese dish.

Make special note of the large sign in the front window with a picture of a small, metal, wok-shaped dish containing some tidbits in a reddish sauce. It lists four or five dishes in Chinese with English translations, all of the má là (spicy-tingly) variety, served in what in what one area of the menu terms a "dried wok". It comes to your table set up on a stand over a sterno burner so it bubbles away pleasantly for several minutes. The stellar Lao Gan Ma pork ribs (老幹媽香排骨 - lǎo gān mā xiāng pái gǔ) are surprisingly tender bits of spare ribs with bone, made with the famous Lao Gan Ma brand of hot sauce. Ma La Duck Neck (麻辣鴨脖 - má là yā bó), inch-long chunks of duck neck in a sauce of similar flavor, is also good, but the miniscule bones get real annoying REAL fast. And the unexpected bonus was the part I somehow missed on the poster in the window: these dishes cost $1.88! (one per table)   I'm not sure how long this special will be running, so go check it out soon.

Spicy Road
43-18 Main St., Flushing 11355
718-321-3688
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then 9 blocks south on Main St.)

Savor Fusion (Maple Snacks) (CLOSED)

A couple of weeks ago, I received a tweet from the intrepid Joe DiStefano, of the World’s Fare blog, about a truly great bowl of dàn dàn miàn he had just eaten at a new food court in Flushing. I trust his opinion more than just about any food writer I can think of, so I headed out the next day, in the rain, to find the Savor Fusion food court (although the Chinese characters on the awning – 楓林小吃 – mean “Maple Snacks”). What I found was a nicely-appointed, brand-spanking-new food court with eight stalls that serve some pretty damn good food at fantastic prices. It has become my latest Flushing obsession.

Of course, Joe managed to find it the very first day it was open for business (how on earth does he do it?), which means, I guess, that I was there on its second day. They are still putting on some finishing touches, and the promised English menus have yet to materialize, but it is surprisingly inviting for a Flushing food court, and a 洋鬼子 like me can almost always find a helpful translator when necessary.

Each stall has a placard above the counter with its menu – Chinese only, so far, except for the Shanghai stall – and stall number (somehow two stalls ended up with the designation “#1”, but no matter…). To hit the highlights of my explorations so far: the stall #1 at the very back of the court, away from the doors, is called 水餃 (shuǐ jiǎo, or boiled dumplings) and serves, true to its name, some stellar boiled dumplings. They have some half-dozen varieties that are frozen to take home, or they'll boil up and serve you. The first time I ordered 三鮮 水 (sān xiān shuǐ jiǎo – literally “three fresh”, or three treasure dumplings, the treasures in question being pork, shrimp and chive), I was presented with probably the most perfect dumplings I have ever tasted: the filling was the perfect balance of ingredients, the wrappers just the right consistency, and the two were perfectly wedded together. I subsequently discovered it makes a difference just who boils them up here – of the two guys behind the counter at various times, if there is a choice, try to get to the one with the more prominent, slightly “chiseled” facial features. Neither speak any English, so practice the phrase “sān xiān shuǐ jiǎo”, and for $3.50 you’ll be rewarded with an unbeatable snack.

Next door is #2, hand-pulled noodles. As far as I can tell, their menu is all noodles in soup (the fried noodle thing seems to be show up mostly in southern Chinese cuisines, and these guys are, I think, from the north). They also do knife-shave noodles – 刀削面 (dāo xiāo miàn) – made the real traditional way, shaving the noodles off the top of a block of dough with a cleaver into boiling water (be sure to watch the guy do it), not by using the machine that looks like a hand-held mandoline that I’ve seen in at least one stall in the New World Mall. You might want to ask for these to be cooked more “al dente” – mine had been boiled just a bit too long for my taste, but were otherwise delicious. English is good here, and they are happy to work with you to give you something you’ll like.

Just across the way that leads to the restroom (yes, there is a nice, clean restroom here!) is a Taiwanese stand (#3) called “Fried dumpling” that I haven’t tried yet, but I’m told has excellent má là tāng (麻辣汤, a spicy-tingly noodle soup with a little bit everything in it, plus your choice of meat). Just around the corner is #4, which has no English name, but the Chinese characters are 河南 (HeNan, as in the province). Among other things, they do two kinds of stuffed small steamed pancakes – one being a spicy cumin lamb filling very much like that of Xi’an Famous Foods (and every bit as good, if not better, because their pancakes tend to be fresher), and the other an utterly delicious chopped stewed pork belly filling (ask for 肉夾饃 – ròu jià mó). Their zhá jiang miàn (炸酱面 – noodles with a minced pork and brown bean sauce) is also very good, although next time I will ask them to leave off the bean sprouts.

Continuing to the right is stall #5, called Tian Jin (天津, the city near Beijing). I have not yet investigated this one, and can’t figure out what they do, but almost no item is more than $3.00 (I’m guessing a lot of breakfast items – on mystery Chinese menus, it’s a pretty safe bet that things under $2 are breakfast items). #6 to the right is another stall I haven’t tried with a very short, inexpensive menu that includes two things translated into English: vegetable roll and fried chicken wings. Not quite sufficient to pique my curiosity enough to try it. And all the way to the right, by the Main St. entrance, is the second stall marked #1, purveying Shanghai specialties. A menu placard completely translated into English appeared this week, and it definitely looks worth a try (I haven’t yet, but maybe later today...). Their offerings fall into two categories: almost two dozen prepared (cold) items are available by the pound (a lot of great-looking stuff here), and hot wontons and noodle soups.

But in between these last two is, predictably, my favorite – the Sichuan stall (#7). Thanks to Joe DiStefano, I know that 成都小吃朱大姐 is run by Sister Zhu, and she makes truly the most delicious dàn dàn miàn (担担面 – noodles with a spicy/numbing minced pork sauce) I have ever tried. But that’s only the beginning. Her fū qī fèi piàn (夫妻肺片 – cold ox tongue and tripe in spicy sauce) is a thing of beauty, and both her má là jī (麻辣雞 – cold spicy/tingly chicken) and má là yú (麻辣魚 – spicy/tingly fish, an especially good deal at 6 bucks for a an order of 5 or 6 medium-sized fish) are outrageously delicious. She also makes the best má pó dòu fǔ (麻婆豆腐 – bean curd with spicy minced pork) I’ve had in years, since the early days of Little Pepper (no more – they make it differently now). She really cares about what she serves, and her English is pretty good (if her son is working, his English is great - he’s very good with a wok, too). And her homemade sausages (香肠 - xiāng cháng) are probably the most delicious I’ve tasted in this country... the flavor kept reminding me of Spain, except the Spanish don’t use Sichuan peppercorn!



Savor Fusion (aka Maple Snacks)
42-01 Main St., Flushing 11355
718-886-6966,
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., then walk south 5 blocks on Main)

Guh Song

I had begun to hear some murmurings (internet-style) that the best jja jang myun in NYC might be served at a place I had not tried yet. So after my recording session this evening, I headed out to Bayside, Queens, to pay Guh Song a visit.

Well, the rumors may be right. I was the only caucasian in the place, and when I ordered the gan jja jang ("special sauce" jja jang myun), the waitress emitted a surprised/pleased "Oh!" The sauce is more flavorful than either of the other well-known places in the city, Sam Won Gahk and Hyo Dong Gak, and the noodles were good. My other must-try dish at a Korean-Chinese restaurant, goon mandu (fried dumplings), didn't fare so well. The wrappers were too thick and actually came out somewhat tough and leathery, and the filling was too heavy on under-cooked chives.

However, this was not, in fact, what most people were eating here. Clams and large crab seemed to be on every table but mine, and it all looked spectacular. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to determine exactly which dishes on the menu they were, but if I can scrape up some company for a return visit, I intend to find out. Especially delectable-looking were the large platters of clams slathered in a brown sauce (possibly "steamed clams with oyster sauce") with some Chinese broccoli, next to a mound of noodles. The waitress mixes it all for you at the table. For the novice, it seems to me it would be worthwhile to really take your time ordering, have a good look around the room to see what's on other tables, and don't be afraid to ask questions!

Guh Song
47-24 Bell Blvd., Basyide 11361
718-281-1810
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., then take the Q27 bus to Bell Blvd.)

Uncle Zhou

If I had written about Uncle Zhou (or 大河人家 - "big river people") when I first went there, it would have been the very first English-language notice about it on the internet (a Chinese soprano—from Henan—told me about it). But, I wanted to try more things before writing about it, and then procrastination set in, so here I am finally getting around to it 3 months later.

Comparisons to Henan Feng Wei are inevitable, since it is the only other Henan-style restaurant in New York (that I know of, anyway). The offerings are similar, but by no means identical. Both focus on noodles, dumplings, with some other kinds of dishes along for the ride, and both serve excellent food. And that’s where the similarity ends. For one thing, Uncle Zhou’s serves not only the hallmark handmade wide, ribbon-like noodles in soup (烩面 - huì miàn), but also the fine hand-pulled noodles (拉面 - lā miàn) and knife-shaved noodles (刀削面 - dāo xiāo miàn), a la Sheng Wang (although Uncle Zhou’s are, I think, a shade more delicate). The wide variety of noodle soups here includes something for every taste—I especially love the spicy beef hand-pulled noodle soup and the chicken knife-shaved noodle soup. But, of course, lamb soup with the wide noodles (滋补羊肉烩面) is the most typical Henanese offering.

My beloved dà pán jī (大盘鸡 - spicy "big tray chicken") is terrific here, and quite different from Henan Feng Wei’s. There the flavors are more concentrated and intense. Uncle Zhou’s version, while packing almost all of the same spice, is mellower, more like comfort food. And it comes served on a bed of the wide noodles—at Henan Feng Wei you have to order noodles separately. And like Henan Feng Wei, they have a few kòu wǎn (扣碗 - small casseroles of chicken, pork or spare ribs) and shāo bǐng (燒餅 - baked sesame pancake). The pork stuffed pancake seems to be off the menu at the moment, which is too bad—it’s better than the beef one currently on offer.

There are also a dozen and a half "house special dishes"—various braised and stir-fried dishes. I haven’t tried all of them—yet—but the "house special fried chicken" must surely be the standout on the list. It’s name, zhá bā kuāi (炸八块 – "fried eight chunks") is perhaps as good a description of it as any, and the execution is sheer genius: each "chunk" is made by peeling the dark meat down away from the leg or thigh bone so it forms a nice knot of meat attached to its own bone handle. They are then lightly seasoned and fried to juicy perfection. There are—you guessed it—eight pieces to an order. And be sure to check out the cold appetizers in the case up by the cash register. The marinated cucumbers (蓑衣黄瓜 - suō yì huáng guā) are especially good. Each small cucumber is intricately cut in a spiral pattern, rather like a Honeybaked ham, yet remains intact, reminding one of an accordion—all the better to soak up the sweet-sour-spicy marinade.

And with such eminently reasonable prices, one could eat here almost every day. I have a feeling some people do—I’ve seen quite a few repeat customers besides myself on my visits there. Open until 11 p.m.

Uncle Zhou
83-29 Broadway, Elmhurst 11373
718-393-0888
(G, R, or V train to Elmhurst Ave., south on Broadway)

He Nan Flavor (Henan Feng Wei)

I've been meaning to blog about these places for months... only now do I seem to be emerging from my winter inertia. Much has already been written about these establishments in the meantime. Let me just add my small voice to say: go! They serve the freshest possible food at unbeatably low prices.

The original Flushing outpost is the more fun of the two, simply because if you hang around the counter after ordering, you can watch them make your food: the entire kitchen is there behind counter. You order noodles, and one of the women picks up an oval of dough and begins to stretch it, double it, and stretch it some more. Thirty seconds later she's cutting it into LONG, wide ribbons, which are dropped into a pot boiling on the stove. One evening I had the pleasure of watching the owner prepare the da pan ji (大盤鳮) I had just ordered. He obviously knew what he was doing, and the low-key mastery of his gestures was a thing of beauty. As was the final result (photos courtesy of Pete):


This dish is sensational: complex, spicy, bursting with interesting flavors. Bite-sized chunks of chicken are stir-fried, then braised briefly with some cubes of potato, a LOT of dried red peppers, ginger, garlic, scallion, Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, and god knows what else, topped with some cilantro. When you're halfway through with it, get a side order of noodle and add it to the pot--the perfect companion to soak up that great sauce. Interestingly, this dish isn't even from Henan--it's a Hui dish from Xinjiang. An opera singer I know originally from Henan, studying in the States, explained to me that, since Xinjiang is such a harsh, mountainous province, a lot of people leave it to go to Henan to work, buoying the dish's popularity there (although it appears to be popular all over China).

She also took one look at the menu I showed her and said the lamb noodle soup is an especially well-known Henan dish. It is lovely and soothing (with those great, wide, hand-pulled noodles), but perhaps a little too mellow for my taste (what can I say... I like robust flavors!). However, the zha jiang mian (炸酱面-noodles with pork and black bean sauce) is absolutely the greatest version of that dish I've ever had: those noodles, with a hearty sauce of minced pork and bean paste, topped with shredded cucumber and some baby bok choy leaves. Rather like the Chinese equivalent of pappardelle with ragù.


The small size ($4.00) easily satisfies one hungry person... get the large only if you're planning on sharing it. The noodle with tomato and egg (eggs scrambled, in case you were wondering) is also fantastic--quintessential comfort food.

There's a little something for everyone here: almost a dozen noodle preparations (the Manhattan restaurant, as I recall, lists all the noodle dishes as "lo mein" on the wall menu), soup dumplings, steamed dumplings, bing pancake, bing with pork filling. The Flushing location also has a selection of cold appetizers and small casserole dishes (meatballs in broth, a couple of pork preparations). The "crispy meat casserole" ("crispy" must refer to the meat being breaded and fried... after a minute in the broth, it ain't crispy no more!):


Unusual (in a good way), and quite tasty with a fair bit of ginger flavoring things. Pete liked the sour vegetable dumplings in soup a lot (I haven't tried it yet):


You'll really have to work to spend more than ten bucks here. But if, like me, you can eat an entire da pan ji in one sitting (exciting the curiosity--and commentary--of the guy in the kitchen once at the Manhattan location), you'll spend twelve.

He Nan Flavor
68 B Forsyth St., New York 10002
212-625-8299
(between Grand and Hester St.)

Henan Feng Wei
136-31 41st Avenue, Flushing 11355
718-762-1818
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, 1 block south on Main, then left on 41st Ave.)