Upstairs at the New World Mall

On the main floor of the New World Mall, near the Jmart cashiers, is a counter I passed many times before deciding to investigate. It generally has a motley assortment of what look like savory pastries, cold "salad" items, and stewed meat items for takeaway, and the other day, some lovely-looking pork shanks caught my eye. How could I resist?

They call this jiang zhǒu zǐ (酱肘子), pork shank stewed in a soy, sugar, and star anise sauce, and it is DELICIOUS. Well worth the 8 or 9 bucks it will set you back.

It's the perfect edible souvenir after a meal at Tian Fu or Li's Noodles downstairs.

New World Mall
Main & Roosevelt (enter on Roosevelt), Flushing 11354
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing)

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)

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

Lao Dong Bei (老东北風味), pt. 2

Lao Dong Bei (老东北風味) has held its undisputed place as my favorite restaurant in Flushing for over 6 months now, and, after trying yet another stellar dish this evening, I realized it's time for a new post.

Another delightful little freebie made its appearance tonight:  green beans pickled with a bit of carrot and garlic, with what is essentially kimchi. A bit spicy, but only just enough to tickle the taste buds:

I always find it interesting to try to guess from the name of the dish whether it's going to be "dry" or in some sort of sauce. When I ordered Hot & Spicy Ribs (xiāng là xiǎo zhū pái - 香辣小猪排), I somehow just assumed it would be simmered in a sauce. So, I was a little surprised when this came out:

The surprise, however, was by no means an unpleasant one. Chunks of pork spareribs were fried until just crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside, with dried red chili peppers, ginger, scallion, and garlic (and, if I'm not imagining it, a hint of cumin). They were then tossed with whole roasted peanuts and cilantro stems. The result, as with any great dish, is more than the sum of its parts. I thought the dish was balanced perfectly: every time I wanted a contrast to the pork, I had a few peanuts, and the cilantro stems were the perfect aromatic counterpoint and just-different-enough kind of crunch to hold ones interest completely. The amounts of each at the end turned out to be exactly right.

On the menu, there is a misprint of one letter in the name "Fresh Fish in Hot Bean Pasta", but it’s an important difference: it should be "Hot Bean Paste" (dòu bàn huó zé yú - 豆瓣活鰂魚, the fish in question, 鰂魚, being tilapia). Most versions of this dish I've had come out red with chili... this one, as you can see, is all brown, and barely spicy.

No matter – it’s a rich, satisfying, earthy flavor. And the tilapia, naturally, is done perfectly.

If the gauge is "number of times ordered", my favorite dishes here are Baby Cabbage with Meatball Soup and the Chicken in Orange Flavor (chén pí jī - 陳皮雞). Chén pí (陳皮) is literally "dried tangerine peel" (often used medicinally in China), and that is exactly what is used. While the sauce is sweet, the bitterness of the dried tangerine peel - and the zing of the dried red pepper - perk up the flavor considerably, eliminating completely the danger if it becoming cloying. Although it's an overused word in food writing, "addictive" - it least when it comes to me - is the right word here.

There's another "orange" dish on the menu here, one of which the establishment is quite proud, Fried Pork in Orange Sauce (guō bāo ròu - 鍋包肉). This seems to be a classic northern Chinese dish (other northern Chinese restaurants in Flushing offer it, like Spicy Road), but its character is quite different from the above chicken dish. No tangerine peel, for one thing, and no hot peppers - the sweet, sticky sauce is similar, though, subtly flavored with orange and ginger. My Chinese vocabulary guru Audrey tells me that guō bāo means that the meat (ròu) has been marinated with rice wine, salt and chicken stock before deep-frying. Which seems entirely plausible. An excellent dish, however it's done.

Another northern classic, jiān jiāo gān dòu fǔ (尖椒乾豆腐 - Dry Bean Curd with Hot Pepper), is, I think, on the menu at every northern restaurant in Flushing. Lao Dong Bei's is as good as any version around:

Hóng shāo ròu (紅燒肉 - Braised Pork) is another pork dish with yet a completely different character. Hóng shāo refers to a dish that is simmered in soy sauce and sugar (there's usually some star anise in there, too) – it means, literally, "red-cooked". A classic preparation and a wonderful way to cook pork belly. It's divine comfort food. (Pardon the reflective glare... STILL getting the hang of the picture-taking thing.)

I've had a small spate of experiences lately where I have been made to feel like a rather unwelcome outsider at some Chinese restaurants around NYC (this is often a problem at Fujianese restaurants, but certainly not limited to them). So it delights me to be able to tell you that the charming hostess - the wife of the chef - appears, even though her English is quite limited, genuinely pleased that you are dining in their establishment. And the invariably excellent food makes you pleased you're dining there, as well.

Now open until midnight - a welcome development for someone of my nocturnal habits.

Lao Dong Bei (老东北風味)
44-09 Kissena Blvd., Flushing, NY 11355
718-539-4100
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, south on Main St. to Kissena, veer left, then 6 more blocks)

Xiao Du Hui (小都會)

I recently ran across a reference to Xiao Du Hui (小都會) online and wondered why I had no clue as to what it was. I have walked past the place dozens of times and never noticed it. But sure enough, there it was, right where the address said it should be. The menu looked interesting and the prices were most definitely right, so in I went.

Xiao Du Hui (小都會 - xiǎo dū huì, which seems to be a way of saying "small town") serves Fuzhou-style food, Fuzhou being the capital of Fujian province in the south. It's a tad surprising to find a Fujianese restaurant in Flushing, bastion of the northern Chinese that it is – most of the Fujianese in New York gravitate toward Manhattan and Brooklyn Chinatowns. But it's there, doing a brisk business for what I have to believe are mostly Fujianese workers around town. The décor is not much to speak of – it is, in fact, a bit dingy – but that’s not why I go to restaurants, obviously. The food is honest cooking for ordinary people. There are very few frills, and it seems that, besides a better-than-average English menu translation, very few concessions are made for Westerners. It may not be for everybody, but it is for me. And it is most definitely a bargain.

Ye frugal diners out there will want to turn directly to the end of the menu, where the heading is not translated into English, but the price of $12.99 is prominently displayed. This page is a sort of family menu, and the price of $12.99 includes one soup from a list of 15 or so at the top (and one soup is large enough to feed 2 or 3) and TWO dishes from a list of almost 70 below that. And if you’d like an additional dish from the list, it's an extra $5.00. Two moderately-hungry eaters (or, that is to say, one of me) will be sated by the two-dish-plus-a-soup menu. Add another dish and you’ve got a small feast for two big eaters... for 18 bucks!

A free dish of preserved radish immediately appeared on ordering. It bears only the most superficial resemblance to the luó bo (蘿卜) at Lao Dong Bei.

Xiao Du Hui's is sliced thicker, not at all spicy, barely vinegary, and slightly sweet. And almost as nice, in fact – just completely different.

I went with the "Golden Fish Soup" (jīn qián yú tāng - 金錢魚湯), mostly because I had no idea what to expect. Even so, it was unexpected: a clear soup of small slices of what seems to be called argus fish or spotted scat in English and slices of winter melon in a sour broth. This fish is not for people who are put off by particularly "fishy-tasting" fish... it’s slightly oily and has a strong flavor. But it works beautifully with the winter melon, and the sour broth cuts the oily quality perfectly.

The "Beef Short Ribs with Salt and Pepper" (jiāo yán niú xiǎo pái - 椒鹽牛小排) were thin slices of cross-cut short ribs (on the bone, of course) coated in a salt-and-pepper seasoned breading, deep fried, then tossed in some chopped scallions and spicy green pepper slices. Delicious

If I hadn't learned some Chinese characters along the way, the "Grilled Meat with Garlic" (suàn miáo là ròu - 蒜苗臘肉) would have been a total shock. But I was ready for the stir-fry of slices of preserved pork and garlic greens that arrived at the table. This is pork preserved in a completely different fashion than that of my Hunan meal the night before – Xiao Du Hui's is a bit sweet and not the least bit smoky. Garlic greens always taste like leeks to me… I guess I'm just not as discerning when it comes to vegetables as I am when it comes to meat. A nice, homey dish.

On a subsequent visit, I tried the seaweed, tomato and tofu soup (fān qié zǐ cài dòu fǔ tāng - 蕃茄紫菜豆腐湯) It was less interesting than the Golden Fish Soup, mostly because the tomatoes – under-ripe and of the supermarket hothouse variety – almost completely lacked flavor. Since tofu hasn't much flavor on its own, this meant the soup was dominated by the taste of the (to my mind, overcooked) purple seaweed (nori). I thought the whole thing was under-seasoned, but that could just be my penchant for strong flavors. Personally, I'd advise skipping it.

五更牛什 (wǔ gēng niú shí) goes by the curious name of "Wu Gen Beef Muscles" on the menu. The literal translation is hardly less curious: Fifth-Watch Beef Entrails. Apparently, the name is taken from the period of time just before dawn, which is supposedly when one needs to start cooking the beef bits in order for them to be ready by lunchtime. And there is quite the assortment of beef bits here - brisket, various sinews, and at least three kinds of tripe – stewed with celery, peppers, and sour cabbage. It's a bit spicy and quite sour, and tastes very southeast Asian to me – rather like a sour curry. It’s not quite my thing – I do seem to prefer the cooking style of Chinese parts a bit farther north – but I think the dish was well-prepared, neophyte that I am to Fujianese cooking.

"Chicken with Food Chow Sauce" (sic) (糟雞 - zāo jī) is my favorite dish here so far. It turned out to be ultra-tender, juicy chunks of on-the-bone chicken simmered with that signature Fujianese ingredient, red wine lees (紅糟 - hóng zāo). Besides ginger, I couldn’t actually figure out what else was in the sauce. All I know is that whatever they do here, it makes the chicken taste like the chicken I used to eat in Portugal… more "chicken-y", somehow, than most chicken in the U.S.  It's a mild dish – don’t be misled by its startling color – and, unlike so many other dishes made with wine lees that I've tried, not the least bit cloying. Absolutely delicious.

The rest of the menu is huge and varied, with a lot of dishes you don't see just anywhere. Lots of noodle soups and rice noodle dishes, too. And they're open until 4 a.m.!

Xiao Du Hui
135-19 40th Rd., Flushing 11354
718-762-1955
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, 1 block south on Main, then right on 40th Rd.)

Hunan House (湘水山莊)

I had eaten at Hunan House (湘水山莊 – xiāng shuǐ shān zhuāng, or Xiang River-the symbol for Hunan province-mountain villa) a couple of times before and somehow didn't love it. Then they were closed for a while for renovations, and recently re-opened. I had been hearing good things and decided to give it another try this evening. I'm glad I did.

Their version of the cold ox tongue and tripe appetizer fū qī fèi piàn (夫妻肺片) is quite competent. While the sauce is not as complex and interesting as Hunan Kitchen of Grand Sichuan’s, the quality of the tongue meat and tripe is much better.

The "Lamb in a Wooden Bucket" (木桶羊肉 - mù tǒng yáng ròu) turned out to be a delightful, spicy stew of lamb rib meat and rind, peppers, scallions and straw mushrooms. Beautifully rounded flavor – just delicious. I realized as I was eating this that I had never been served straw mushrooms before that weren't from a can. I had no idea that fresh ones were so lovely!

The real star of the meal for me, though, goes by the name of "Steamed Preserved Meat" (臘味三蒸 - là wèi sān zhēng) on the takeout menu. It's not even listed on their quite haphazardly-organized in-restaurant menu, and I'm certainly glad I asked about it. Ever since I ran across Fuchsia Dunlop's recipe for "Smoky Flavors Steamed Together" in her Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook, I had been wanting to taste such a marvelous-sounding dish, and, as far as I can tell, none of the other Hunan restaurants around town offer it. Hunan House's version is spectacular, with Chinese bacon, preserved beef, preserved duck, thin slices of smoked bean curd, and just enough hot pepper to cut through the dense thicket of flavors. Definitely more than the sum its parts, I could eat this dish every night for the next week.

The experience produced one sour note: since this place is a bit more expensive than most of the places I write about (but still a good value), I decided to charge the meal to a credit card. (Unlike most of the places I write about, they do accept credit cards). The check folder and takeout menu both say they accept American Express, but when an American Express card was tendered, we were told they don't accept it. They either need to start accepting the damn card or stop indicating to the public that they do.

Hunan House
137-40 Northern Blvd., Flushing 11354
718-353-1808
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, north 4 blocks to Northern Blvd., then right 3 blocks)

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)

Arirang (아리랑)

This evening, I had the some of the most wonderful Korean cooking I have ever tasted. Bearing in mind that my ideal food is made by someone's grandmother from the Old Country, the food at Arirang, in the Auburndale neighborhood of Flushing, must be what it's like to have someone's Korean grandmother cook for you. (Korean mothers have cooked for me, so I'm extrapolating – but not too much.)

The menu is small, and word is that everything on it is good. The two dishes we tried were great. They are especially well known for their dak kalguksu (닭칼국수 - knife-cut noodles in chicken soup, or... chicken noodle soup), and with good reason. The noodles are palpably homemade, as is the soup: small chunks of chicken in a rich, yet light broth. As close to perfection as I can imagine such a dish to be.

Although we didn't order the other noodle specialty of the house, su jae bi (수제비 - hand-torn noodles), luckily a few su jae bi bits tend to end up in the bowl with the kalguksu noodles. The slightly chewy patches of flat dough make a fun contrast.

The other dish on the table was equally outstanding. It's not even translated into English on the menu, so you need to know to ask for andong jjimdak (안동찜닭), or stewed chicken Andong style. It’s also rich, but not heavy, a bit sweet, a bit spicy - chicken pieces stewed with oyster sauce, soy sauce, jap chae clear noodles, chili pepper, garlic, potato, scallion, cucumber, carrot, sesame, and other goodies (as if all that isn’t enough). The wall menu says it feeds 2-3, but it can easily feed 4-5, especially if there’s a bowl or three of kalguksu on the table. Well worth the 32 bucks.

(This dish isn't actually too difficult to make if you have access to a decent Asian market, and there's an excellent recipe for it on the wonderful Maangchi.com.)

Aside from this and the noodles dishes, the only other type of food on the menu is pa jeon (해물파전 - haemul pajeon), a large, fried seafood and scallion pancake. Word on the street is that it’s great, too. I look forward to trying it next time.

Go early. On a Friday night, they were closing up by 9:30.

This is just the kind of home-style cooking that makes me very, very happy.

Arirang
41-04 163rd St., Flushing  11358
718-321-0185
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then take the Q13 or Q 28 bus to 162nd St. It's a few doors south of Northern Blvd. on 163rd St.)

Fare thee well, Traditional Hunan Style (天天湘上)

Another visit to Traditional Hunan Style in Flushing this evening – it's nice to see they're becoming popular. Unfortunately, the popularity is strong among rude, drunk Chinese. More on that later.

Their spicy beef tendon (or, as it’s listed on the menu, "beef tender") appetizer is excellent (湘味辣牛筋 - xiāng wèi là niú jīn) – ribbons of very thinly-sliced tendon in a delightful, complex spicy sauce. Indeed, the flavor of this dish was more complex than anything else we tried.

The sweet but confused waitress got our order wrong and ended up bringing a dish we hadn't ordered (for which we were charged, naturally – we only realized it wasn't the one we had ordered after we had eaten half of it and the one we did want arrived). It turned out to be the best of the three main dishes we tried: 湘式熏腊雞 (xiāng shì xūn là jī – Hunan-style smoked chicken). The menu calls it "House Special Fried Chicken": small, bone-in chunks of smoked chicken, stir-fried with red and green bell peppers, dried hot pepper, ginger, scallions, and black mushrooms. Reasonably tasty, although it was much like eating a chicken version of the White Jalapeño Chinese Preserved Meat I had last time, but not as good. In fact this place seems to use the exact same complement of vegetables for all their stir-fried dishes, as far as I can tell.

The chicken dish we actually had ordered arrived several minutes later, "House Spicy Chicken Szechuan" (三椒煸雞 - sān jiāo biān jī, or three pepper fried chicken). Minus black mushrooms, this dish was almost identical to the one already on our table, except the small chunks of chicken, rather than smoked, had been deep-fried. There was no need to take a picture of it because it looked... exactly the same as the first dish.

"Zi-Ran Lamb" (孜然羊 - zī rán yáng, zī rán meaning "cumin") was a dud. Once again, it looked exactly like the other dishes, with slices of lamb instead of chicken, plus a grainy, runny sauce in the bottom of the bowl.

It appears that I had two of their very best dishes on my first visit. I wouldn't order any of the above – except the beef tendon – again.

That question, though, is moot, since I will never again be visiting this restaurant. We were seated near a large table of drunk Chinese that were openly and loudly mocking us. One certainly did not need to be able to understand whatever Chinese dialect they were shouting (it sure wasn’t the kind of Mandarin one usually hears) to grasp the intent of their glances of derision and gestures of ridicule, and the staff feigned obliviousness to it all. I have never before been made to feel so unwelcome in any restaurant in Flushing (although friends of mine have), except once, but the vibe was so bad I left before sitting down. Interestingly, it was on the same block (with the singularly inappropriate name of "Welcome Inn") – perhaps the fact that 40th Rd. is chock-a-block with happy-ending massage parlors and tour buses to and from casinos in Connecticut has something to do with it.

My admittedly drama-prone friend made a show of wiping the slime off his feet and spitting on the ground upon exiting the restaurant. In fact, not an inappropriate gesture.

Traditional Hunan Style (天天湘上)
135-23 40th Rd., Flushing 11354
718-321-2788

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)