Pho Real Revisted

When stomachs craved something comforting, we decided to go back to Pho Real and check out the other options on the set lunch menu listed on the first visit. New and somewhat unpleasant surprises greeted us on a return lunch.

The set lunch menu prices changed from 38RMB to 48RMB and 58RMB for the “small” and “big” lunch sets, respectively. I can only imagine what changes were made to the dinner menu. There was not much difference between the cold ban with house specialty house chicken or pork with the third listing on the menu, which was basically the same without the option of choosing pork (just chicken) and lacking pickled vegetables. I checked out the dish from the guy sitting next to me and it looked quite plain, so I opted for the pho again. All this menu told me was that you were getting 10RMB more worth of rice noodles with the big lunch set.

Out come the fried spring rolls on a small bed of thin rice noodles atop a large lettuce leaf next to the bite-sized tofu bun and pho fixings. The spring rolls were less satisfying this time around. The wrapper was thicker and the filling had less carrots and more “filler.” It also was significantly oilier and you could see the oil drip onto your plate after the first bite.


The pho came out in small and big bowls, with the contents of the smaller bowl looking more impressive only because the meaty bits were not drowned by excess noodles. There was raw beef, but no tendons. The broth this time was oilier and more bland, lacking the much needed rich, but light depth found in a good broth.


I had great hope for Pho Real. At the opening, the restaurant had the potential to go in the direction toward a legit Vietnamese pho with its set lunch menu. However, the food has turned in the direction of Pho Sizzling, appealing towards the market palate instead of upholding its promise of authenticity.

Phở Real. No. 166 Fumin Lu, near Julu Lu 富民路166号，近巨鹿路 Shanghai, People's Republic of China.

Balthazar

Eduardo Vargas, please stop your restaurant ADD.

The soft opening of the latest venture of Vargas, Balthazar, set in a cozy nook in the lanes off Taikang Lu / Jianguo Lu, offered 2-for-1 draft specials and a 30% discount on the total bill. The promos on SmartShanghai and CityWeekend were alluring enough to make a reservation at this "French bistro" and check things out. Plus, paying full-price is not attractive when a discount could be found.

As the layout of the restaurant is not suited for the slightly disabled or handicapped, we were seated outside on the cozy patio on a warm autumn evening, though left to the mercy of countless mosquitoes taking one last nip before winter hits. The seating of the restaurant is mainly on the second and third floors with bar space on the ground level. The “cheese cave” did not hold any cheese, but a prep area.

For dinner, we ordered the terrine de canard, lobster bisque, mushroom crepes, and confit de canard (which the kitchen ran out of, so instead they sent duck on a bed of spinach and beets) to go down with the 2-for-1 Hoegarten draft beers. With the busy soft opening, it almost seemed like our lovely Filipino server almost forgot about us.

The lobster bisque was an utter disaster. The color looked more brown than a flushed pink and the lukewarm bisque showed a failed attempt at any thickening (from the faint raw flavor of a roux that should not be there). It tasted more like some other crustacean than crab, devoid of flavor or character or a badly needed splash of sherry or more chunks of “lobster”. Even the lone dime-sized lump of “lobster” floating in the bisque was surprisingly dry.


The terrine de canard did not fare any better. It arrived on a plate with a small salad and drizzled with a sort of pesto sauce. Already that was wrong for serving. The complimentary bread was used as a vehicle for the terrine, which had more filler than actual duck.


Resembling enchiladas in a wide ramekin, the mushroom crepes appear to have been cooked in a manner similar to an enchilada. Mushrooms were wrapped by a crepe too thick and doughy before being placed in the ramekin, covered in a green crème sauce, and blasted under a boiler. The flavors came through individually, but did not marry in the dish.


Last hope for the duck, which had a nice flavor, but a little on the dry side. The spinach and beets, however, were really nice. Maybe the only redeeming quality of the entire meal.


Our server told us and begged us to offer our comments, suggestions, and criticisms of the meal and even went further to permit us to be brutally honest. The disappointment was great enough that she took off the lobster bisque from our final bill.

While waiting for the bill to arrive, a Chinese party found the chef at the entrance and also told him that the food was terrible. I was unsure if it was just my personal taste, but the sentiment reverberated through other diners (save one Vargas cheerleader on the CityWeekend site) showing the kitchen was still developing and needed drastic improvement. If only this Chinese man waited a few more moments for Vargas to show up and review the damage.

Vargas, please stick to what you know and try not to move too fast. With the restaurant gems bearing the Vargas name in Shanghai, it would be a shame to ruin a gastronomic reputation with quick expansion. All that talent could be lost in impulsive restaurant decisions resulting in poor execution, lack of attention, and dissatisfied fans.

Perhaps another visit is needed in the future to see if there has been any improvement in the kitchen since the soft opening. Anyone? Anyone?

Balthazar. No. 7, Lane 155 Jianguo Lu, Shanghai, China. Near Ruijin Lu and Taikang Lu.

峥峥饮食 Zhēng Zhēng Yǐnshí

All the dancing and beer drinking after a night at The Shelter gives way to intense cravings for some good eats to soak up the remaining alcohol and lull you to a contented sleep. Your body wants something comforting and this night the skewers from the street hawkers are not going to cut it.

After rolling into a taxi, a friend tells the driver to head towards Changning Lu near Huayang Lu to go to a noodle shop there. “I know this great place. It’s a cheap noodle shop, but the noodles are great!” The taxi driver tells him he already knows where this place is. If the taxi driver knows about this place, it is an excellent sign.


Before us is Zhēng Zhēng Yǐnshí峥峥饮食, an unassuming hole-in-the wall kind of place with bare formica tables. The pinyin translator I used told me that zhēng zhēng yǐnshí means “lofty (soaring)” and “food and drink.” Next to the dining area is the kitchen and prep area where a guy is pulling noodles in one window and passing them through a gap in the divider to the guy standing over a boiling vat of water to cook them in the next window. The hand-pulled wheat flour noodles or lā miàn 拉面 is commonly made in the Lanzhou style (Lanzhou is the capital city of Gansu province in northwest China), but the noodles here are made in Hunnan style. The dough is stretched and twisted until long, thin noodles are produced.


My friend quickly asks if we want beef and if the noodles will be in soup or dry. I opted for the soup option and they request their noodles dry. The noodles were cooked to perfection and the broth was meaty and slightly spicy. Even dry, the noodles were not too oily or dry enough to stick together. The coriander or cilantro, cumin, and scallions gave the noodle soup a nice fresh zing. However light the meal appears to be, the noodles are actually really heavy and oily and you can feel the weight in your stomach after forking out the 6RMB.


Wow. That was tasty. Definitely going back there again. That taxi driver must really know what he’s talking about for great cheap eats in Shanghai.

峥峥饮食Zhēng Zhēng Yǐnshí. No. 3, Lane 484, Changning Lu, Zhongshan Park (near Huayang Lu), Shanghai, China

Food Fusion

A very recent article on SmartShanghai claims that they found the Malay real deal in terms of authenticity considering the lack of authenticity in Shanghai’s other foreign food establishments (at least in terms of Thai, Vietnamese, Singaporean, and Indonesian). Promises of authenticity are tempting enough to give Food Fusion a shot, especially after recovering from a hangover.

The restaurant was not too full when we entered with a handful of Chinese and laowai littered about. It is a bright and colorful place with plush booth seats. Maybe these diners also came in hopes of the real deal in Malaysian cuisine.


Kang kong or morning glory was the first dish out. The chilies and shrimp paste gave it a little kick, but the vegetables were slightly overdone.


The roti was slightly crispy to soak up the savory and somewhat oily curry. It would have been better if the chicken in the curry didn’t have the bone attached. There were only 3 pieces of rough cut dark meat chicken and 2 or 3 potato pieces. The chicken was tender and the potato was not underdone.


The beef rending was really tender and falling apart and relatively spicy compared to the rest of the meal. This was a good one. The roti was also good for picking up chunks of the beef curry.


The shrimp assam was not very impressive, being slightly overcooked. The flavor was nice, but nothing to come running back for. The other disappointment was the calamansi juice, which looked unnaturally bright yellow and was warm with ice floating on top. Unfortunately, the taste was mild from concentrate and laced with artificial sweetener.

The four dishes, tea, and calamansi juice came to a grand total of 191RMB, which seemed like a lot when our referral “ate for eight” at a total of 646RMB. The dishes seemed kind of hit or miss, but this perspective is mostly due to the disappointment in the shrimp and coming in with exceedingly high expectations of the kang kong. Still, a good meal and worth checking out at least once.

Food Fusion. 918 Huaihai Zhong Lu -Parkson 8th Floor, Metro Line 1 Shan xi nan Lu Station. Shanghai, China

Kabb

Comfort breakfast staples are well-advertised in Shanghai brunch establishments, at least outside of the flashy brunch buffets offered at high-end hotels. Word of the banana pancakes at Kabb were thrown around enough in Shanghai expat publications that it beckoned a try.


Located in the lanes of Xintiandi, Kabb provides an excellent spot for al fresco dining on the cooler, more temperate Shanghai days. Perfect for people watching (mostly laowai), it is a nice setting for a lazy brunch.

The idea of pancakes was thrilling. The actual plate was not.


The stack was large at four high, but plain. The menu description was misleading because all that was delivered was a stack of plain pancakes with a few slices of banana. The pancakes were on the dense side, though offering a somewhat decent medium to absorb any liquid. Most of the flavor lay in maple syrup. Not exactly a breakfast I would ever run back to spend 70RMB on.

Also slightly disappointing was the spinach frittata with a slice of bread and potatoes cooked with ham. The spinach and feta mixed with egg only existed in the top half of the frittata. It seemed like the bottom layer of the frittata was just plain egg and all the flavorful bits were poured on the top half instead of being equally distributed. The potatoes were slightly on the oily side.


The plates are large and filling for what you get, but the food is nothing special, especially for what you pay (though you are in Xintiandi). Kabb better serves as a spot to have a coffee or a drink in a more trendy setting.

Kabb. Unit 1, Bldg 5, North Block, Xintiandi, Lane 181 Taicang Lu, Xin Tian Di, Shanghai. Near Madang Lu. Metro Line 1 Huangpi Nan Lu Station. 太仓路181弄新天地北里5号楼单元1室 近黄陂南路, 地铁1号线黄陂南路站

Pho Real

The hunt for the ellusive phở in Shanghai continues past all mentions of other Vietnamese restaurants serving phở that ended up to be quite poor, bringing us to Phở Real. Online recommendations say that this place has good phở. Phở real?!?!?! (Apologies for the pun) Real phở? Maybe decent phở. ::sigh::

"There are several regional variants of phở in Vietnam, particularly divided between northern (Hanoi, called phở bắc or "northern phở"; or phở Hà Nội), central (Huế), and southern (Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon). One regional phở may be sweeter, and another variation may emphasize a bolder and spicier flavor . "Northern phở" tends to use somewhat wider noodles and green onions. On the other hand, southern Vietnamese generally use thinner noodles (approximately the width of pad Thai or linguine noodles), and add bean sprouts and a greater variety of fresh herbs to their phở instead." (Source) The noodles are called bánh phở, traditionally cut from wide sheets of fresh noodles, though rice sticks may also be used. Thinner rice noodles are better for soups. Quite a range to choose from.

The restaurant is open with its clean decor, ceiling covered in baskets, sky blue table tops, and emphasis on wood. The fresh environment could reflect the impression pho should have on its consumer. Running close to the end of the lunch hour, a quick call to ensure they expect our arrival proved fruitful. Yay! Here we go again. Hopefully, this experience will wash away the utter disappointment brought by Pho Sizzling.


The spring rolls came out with the soup accompaniments of fresh red chilis, Asian basil, bean sprouts, and lime. The spring rolls were fried and contained some meat and a lot of carrots to give it a nice crunch. Two dipping sauces also accompanied the dish: a rice vinegar and a sort of sweet fermented fish sauce. This appetizer was just filler until the main event. Where is that phở?


The bowl finally came out, decent sized and looked promising. The broth was aromatic and looked a tad dark, though indicating more flavor (by appearance) and smelling richer from the bones. Spring onion, cilantro, flank, and steak were also floating in the bowl. The meat was cut a hair too thick. Again, the noodles looked wrong being still wide. In any case, this was a big improvement from the noodle soup attempting to pass as "phở" consumed a few weeks ago. All the accompaniments were thrown in and ::ahh:: a wave of familiarity washed over me. I found my phở fix, the operative word being "fix" as in if-I-want-phở-and-cannot-find-the-real-thing-I-will-come-here. In the event that my stomach is unwell or I need a phở fix, I would definitely trek to Phở Real.


The lunch special is a set meal 38RMB per person and includes 2 spring rolls, a bowl of pho (or two other entrees which were of no interest at the time), and a soda or iced tea. It's not your beloved street or cheap as chips phở at 38RMB. Lunch lasts until about 2:00pm until they reopen for dinner. The set meal for dinner is the same as lunch, but they want to get about 88RMB from you. Ridiculous! Go for lunch and save your wallet.

Phở Real. No. 166 Fumin Lu, near Julu Lu 富民路166号，近巨鹿路 Shanghai, People's Republic of China.

Pho Sizzling

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)

Sheng Jian Bao

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.


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.


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

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.