Sunday, August 23, 2009

Pho Sizzling

Pho Sizzling – beef pho

Being located so close to Vietnam, you would assume that a decent bowl of pho could be found on mainland China and even more so in the international capital of Shanghai. Assume must be the operative word here. Vietnam is so close. Why isn't there a place to get pho? It is so easy to find a killer place in Europe and the States!

A nauseated stomach calls for something comforting and the most comforting thing ever is a hot bowl of pho with its fresh bits of basil, light rice noodles, heat from fresh chilies, and thin slices of meat all floating in a savory broth. A good bowl of pho is a naturally medicinal cure. The psychology that goes along with it doesn't hurt either.

So we arrive at Pho Sizzling on Nanjing Xi Lu, right next to the metro stop. The restaurant is full of people, which is quite promising among the myths that no good pho exists in Shanghai. Lots of people is a good sign. Strangely, we were served by a laowai server. What is a laowai doing as a server? That is extremely rare to see. Perhaps he is the owner? Just a bowl of pho with beef, please.

While waiting, there were not many bowls nearby to peer at and see exactly what we were getting into. There were a couple flatscreen televisions with “instructions” on how to eat a bowl of pho. First, sprinkle the bowl soup with dried onions. Second, add the orange sauce to the soup. WHAT? The service was slow and it took longer than it should to receive the order. And I was nervous.

Oh…The disappointment. The server didn’t even bring us the standard fare of limes, basil, bean sprouts, and peppers. The noodles were wrong. Flat and thick and not thin. The broth was completely tasteless and it was as if the cook threw in lemon grass in an attempt to redeem any flavor from the broth. Even the meat lost its value. This pho was just wrong. It was not pho. It is even more tempting to blame the laowai for destroying the idea of pho. And what are all these people doing crowded in this restaurant full of pho gone terribly wrong? What a bust.

The search for a satisfying bowl of pho continues in Shanghai.

Pho Sizzling. 2/F, 200 Wujiang Lu. Shanghai, China. (Jing An, near Taixing Lu, Metro Line 2 Nanjing Xi Lu Exit 3)

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Sheng Jian Bao

Yang's Fry Dumpling Storefront

Promises of endless xiao long bao lured me to Shanghai after the first fateful encounter at Joe’s Shanghai in New York City only 2 years before. How that hot broth managed to remain protected behind the thin dumpling skin was such a mystery (until a thorough internet search revealed the secret that I think I would now prefer to remain mystified by). I had to taste the real thing.

Upon arrival, I was enthusiastically informed of a near cousin of xiao long bao – sheng jian bao. “It’s like xiao long bao but fried.” Oooh! Now that is an intriguing idea. The Americans enlightening me on this form of baozi claim to relish the frying methods. Frying things is a favorite method of cooking in the States, especially in the South. Caramelizing the dumpling skin would add a whole dimension to the experience.

The roads to sheng jian bao in Shanghai lead to Wujiang Lu, off of Nanjing Xi Lu, a short walk from the metro station. Here is a street packed with little low-brow restaurants and people milling about and bouncing from window to window to decide which place will serve the most satisfying meal of the moment. Yang’s Fry Dumpling sits on the east end of the road, right next to another Yang’s Fry Dumpling. With one being so good, imagine having another location right next door!

The prep area is full of people ripping off small pieces from a giant dumpling dough ball and spooning some filling in before swiftly closing off the dumpling and throwing it in a large, heavy iron pan. The pan lined with raw sheng jian bao is put over a flame and doused with oil before being covered with a large wooden lid to steam. Once done cooking, a sprinkling of sesame seeds completes the cooking process.

Fresh serving of Sheng Jian Bao

Ordering is done at a till first where you pay. Each order of sheng jian bao is of 4 for 5¥ and two orders can make a satisfying meal. You take your receipt to the prep area where a server will either scoop the hot dumplings in a take away carton or in a bowl to eat there. Service is fast and efficient, but there is no order. If another customer who ordered after you manages to get their ticket to the server first, you will have to wait after one more person until you get your ticket in.

Plate of 2 servings

Sheng jian bao is larger in size to its xiao long bao counterpart, resembling a small ball than dumpling. Its rounder shape holds due to a thicker dumpling skin and that the fried bottom reinforces its base. Unlike xiao long bao, you cannot pop the whole thing in your mouth, unless you have a really big mouth. Plus, all the juice contained within the thick dumpling walls will squirt out like a water hose. It’s also extremely hot and the juices inside tongue searing. Chinese like their food fresh so what’s fresher than straight from the pan?

Eating the dumpling is not as neat as the xiao long bao. There is more mass to deal with and if you are not careful, the dumpling will jump out from between your chopsticks and land in the vinegar dipping sauce getting more liquid everywhere. If your skills are not up to par, then add oily broth from the dumpling to the vinegar for an even bigger splash. Getting through the dumpling skin is not so easy either as it is a lot thicker and more held together from the frying process making it more difficult to neatly bite off a bit of dough to create a little hole to slurp the juices from.

Yang’s sheng jian is quite tasty though a bit more fattening from all the oil. The best part is all the incredible juices the meat is floating in. There are a lot of other dumpling shops in Shanghai serving sheng jian bao, but they say that Yang’s is the best.

For my personal taste, I would choose xiao long bao over sheng jian bao. The much thinner dumpling skin and steaming do not make the dumpling so heavy and weigh you down. After a steamer of soup dumplings, you are still satisfied, but do not feel bloated or lethargic from the oil. Though, that aspect is more likely to be craved for after a long night of drinking.

Yang’s Fry Dumpling. 54-60 Wujiang Lu, Nanjing Xi Lu near Nanjing Xi Lu.

Club Velas

Under the bar at Velas

Free entry? Free drink vouchers? More free drink vouchers? Yes, please. It is Friday night and this is Velas. Off Huai Hai Middle Road this club on the second floor is said to be “very Chinese.” The impression implies more of the same thing. What is so Chinese about it…This has to be learned. In any case, there is a healthy number of expats intermingling with local Chinese.

After taking the lift up to the second level, one of the club promoters will promptly hand you three drink vouchers or wait in the foyer while hunting for more drink vouchers. Then the club promoter tells you, “If you want more drinks, look for me and I’ll get you more drink vouchers.” Sweet! Bring on the mixed drinks and beer.

Inside the club is dark and lit with disco lights giving the vibe of glitz, but lacking the glam. Tables surrounding the dance floor reveal dice games and guys sitting around waiting for…something.

Never too full and sometimes on the verge of mass exodus, the bar tempts you to sit there and steadily drink until the thundering commercial electronic dance music or your friends drag you out on the dance floor or are convincing enough to get you on one of the two dancing podiums. As the volume of the music and drink take over, your toes can’t help tapping to the music, granted the choice selection is more main stream and at times the DJ gets a bit carried away with himself before remembering why he was hired to spin in the first place. The next thing you know, everyone is dancing around you and all the cheesiness of club begins to melt away.

Velas is a good time, but it is better served as a spot to begin the night and intake alcohol before moving on elsewhere to hit your Friday night stride.

Club Velas. 2F, 1045 Huaihai Lu, near Fenyang Lu (entrance on Fenyang Lu).

Happy Birthday!

Frenzied Palate has passed the one-year mark of existence and has not been abandoned as several well-intentioned attempts at food blogs have been. Congratulations to making it!

And now, after growing comfortable with divulging into the blogosphere becoming familiar with the platform, perhaps we can get a little more personal.