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God's Ketchup

This is how I describe Guelaguetza: it has no fear. This restaurant sticks out like a (beautiful Oaxacan) sore thumb in the heart of Koreatown on Olympic boulevard. Its unreserved charms include a neon orange paint job and elephant-sized decals of Mexican boys and girls playing with chickens. The inside is equally unashamed: I don't know if it was the 50 some odd tables filled with hungry Angelinos, the live band playing on a stage 10 feet from the entrance, or the huge steaming, splattering, clattering and aromatic kitchen next to the stage that overwhelmed my senses upon entering. But this I did know: I was ready to get me some mole.

We were seated in one of the farther-out tables situated around the corner and a good 100 feet from the stage and kitchen (I should stress the sheer size of this place: easily the size of 3 normal restaurants put together) which was nice, because that way we could talk. On the walk among all of the tables, I took my opportunity to scope out the best looking dishes. The highlights included a delicious fried fish platter, tlayudas the size of hula hoops, and of course, a variety of moles colored with every shade of yellow, green, red, brown and black.

The first thing the waiter brought us was a pile of chips drizzled with their red mole - it was sweeter than expected, with an extra edge that I'm sure is unique to the Oaxacan chocolate and chili synthesis Guelaguetza clearly mastered long ago. It almost immediately received its fitting nickname "God's ketchup" as we proceeded to eat not one, not two, but three baskets of these mole chips. #noregrets

We got only one main dish to share, in part because we'd had enough chips to justify the entire lunch, but mostly because the portion sizes at this place are beyond generous. The dish was called "festival de moles" which is a sampling of their four main moles - mole negro, mole rojo, coloradito (the same mole as on the chips), and amarillo. The amarillo was a pleasant and pretty standard saltier mole. The red moles, of course, were strikingly distinct, but a perfect introduction for those palates that are illiterate to the Oaxacan repertoire of flavors. But the black mole is no such dish. Black mole is.. well. Much like the restaurant itself. It just doesn't back down. It requires a prerequisite equal to that of a high school-level literacy rating on Oaxacan food to be truly appreciated. I enjoyed my first few bites, but soon became quite aware of its bitter undertones, which presumably come from the mounds of chocolate that give this mole a truly black color. But I shall not be defeated! I am determined to love black mole as much as I respect it. For as the beloved Captain Jason Nesmith says, "Never give up! Never surrender."

Aside from the moles, the large homemade tortillas are hefty and thick from the coarse corn meal they're made from, and Guelaguetza's string cheese is basically the most delicious string cheese I've ever had. I shall be back.

By Mary Ruth Ngo with Tom and Erika Ngo

3014 W Olympic Blvd,

Los Angeles, CA 90006

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The Permutable Menu Selection

This has been an Asian-heavy month, I know. But I can’t help but showcase the virtues of great Japanese ramen. Besides, as a ‘great aficionado’ of authentic ethnic food, I shouldn’t foolishly group Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, and Taiwanese food into the same category. So I shamelessly present to you a fourth Asian blog post in a month.

Hakata Ramen Shin-Sen-Gumi is a narrow, but hopping ramen shop in Rosemead. When our family first moved to Pasadena in 2009, our friends took us to this place as an introduction to the great food in SGV. Though we had a great time, the memory lay dormant in my mind, never to resurface again until I walked back into the crowded room, 4 years later.

Leanne and I put our names on the self-sign-in sheet outside and took a seat by the bright, flashing neon (and somewhat distressing) lights of the store next door. After a reasonable 15-20 minute wait, we were ushered inside. We squeezed past the busy waiters balancing hot bowls brimming full with generous portions of ramen and sat down at a small table that had an 18-inch buffer zone between it and the adjacent tables. The other option to sit would have been at the bar, where one can watch the cooks throw fresh noodles into boiling pots of water, ladle out steaming, thick broth and garnish the bowls with a variety of ingredients with expert precision and efficiency. I know this because I sat there four years ago. Now that I think about it, we probably should have sat there to see the action this time around. Ah, well.

Hakata Ramen has a regular menu with a selection of random Japanese fast-food products which look marginally good. But the only thing I paid attention to both times was the little piece of paper with a grid of options, which allows one to personalize his or her own bowl of ramen. Do you like your noodles thicker than normal? Do you prefer softer noodles to chewy? Do you have a hankering for leafy takana, bamboo shoots or perhaps some cod roe? Does your heart sing when, as you carefully pull noodles from the bottom of the bowl out into the salivating cavity of your mouth, they get baptized in the spicy oil lining the top of your ramen bowl? And the bite makes the back of your throat burn ever so slightly as it slides down into your esophagus? Fear not. I don’t really like any of those things. But if you do, we’ll both still be happy at Hakata Ramen Shin-Sen-Gumi. Just go through the series of options, check off your preferences, and let the chef prepare a bowl of ramen that fits you like a worn-in pair of shoes. So satisfying. So you.

As at Boiling Point, I failed once again. I could not finish my huge bowl of hot noodle soup. But I packed it up nicely, separating the noodles from the broth in the fridge once I got home (to maintain the firmness of the noodles overnight), and received many “oohs” and “ahs” at the lunch table the next day for my tasty looking leftovers. So there’s even more incentive to go! We recommend.

Mary Ruth Ngo with Leanne Norden

8450 E Valley Blvd Ste 103 Rosemead, CA 91770

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A tasty lunch at Vietnamese restaurant in San Gabriel (in the same complex as Luscious Dumplings and Hui To a Xiang, in fact), appropriately named "Vietnamese Restaurant"

340 W Las Tunas Dr San Gabriel, CA 91776

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Sampling of the Hui Tou Xiang Dumpling House Menu

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Words of Wisdom from the 626 Foodettes and Jonathan Gold

This past Saturday (May 11th), I had the pleasure of stopping by the the Pasadena LitFest, an annual book festival in the Pasadena Central Park on Raymond. I bypassed the sci-fi fantasy, teen romance, and poetry stalls, and went straight for what really mattered: the panel of food literature big-names that had come to talk about Chinese food. The three panel members were Kristie Hang, Clarissa Wei, and Jonathan Gold. Kristie and Clarissa are the writers for the locally famous 626 Foodette blog (which we are following here on tumblr, if you’d like to check them out). Jonathan Gold, of course, is the oh-so large and mulleted iconic food critic who writes food columns for the LA Times.

The title of the panel discussion was this: “How the San Gabriel Valley Became the Western - and Maybe the Eastern Capital of Chinese Cuisine.” Wei and Hang told us anecdotes of their childhoods growing up in this area among first-generation immigrants from China. Hang claimed that when she was 7 years old, her mother stopped cooking, and ever since then, she has gone out to eat anywhere from 3 to 5 times a day, seven days a week. And the vast majority of those meals have been at Chinese restaurants. The only thing that makes me doubt her claim is that she is very skinny, and healthy-skinned. How does one eat greasy fried Chinese dumplings filled with ambiguous meat concoctions slathered in hot chili oil 3 three times a day for 15 years and come out looking attractive? Oh, to have an Asian metabolism.

Anyhow, I sat and listened to 45 minutes of food talk that was chock-full of wonderful nuggets of wisdom worth their weight in dumplings. For instance, if you want to go to the best dry pots (a family-style Wu Han Chinese dinner staple), go to TastyDine. For the best hand-shaved/ hand-pulled noodles, you can visit BamBoodles, where you get to watch the man whose sole job is to bounce up and down on a pole all day in order to make your noodles fresh in the traditional way. They also revealed a trade secret about xiao long bao (those juicy dumplings famously offered at Din Tai Fung): apparently there are only a few chefs who actually make the dumplings from scratch. Those chefs in turn sell them to surrounding restaurants. So if you’re deciding where to go for the best xiao long bao, chances are that your choice won’t actually matter all that much.

But the best moments of the discussion were at the very end, when they revealed their favorite restaurants. Someone asked the offensively vague question, “what’s your favorite restaurant?” which threw each of them into a small panic as they painfully attempted to wrap their heads around such a difficult task. The question was therefore quickly revised to “what’s your favorite dumpling house?” Jonathan Gold chose Wang Xing Ji, which serves his favorite sweet, grapefruit-sized version of the xiao long bao. Hang and Wei chose Luscious Dumplings and Hui Tou Xiang Noodles House respectively, which was intriguing, because the two restaurants are situated right next door to each other on Las Tunas.

After the panel ended, my mother and I walked tentatively towards the food trucks at the festival that were serving burgers and ice cream. We didn’t get even a third of the way to the food trucks before we gave in to our cravings. We drove 20 minutes and went to Hui Tou Xiang for a second lunch at 2:30 p.m. And it was worth it. Definitely try the xiao long bao and leek pancakes.

Mary Ruth Ngo with Erika Ngo

704 W Las Tunas Dr

Ste 5

San Gabriel, CA 91776

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An Orange Feast from New Delhi Palace: Chicken Masala, Garlic Naan, Shrimp Coconut Masala, Mango Chutney, Samosas, Baingan Bharta

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Sometimes it's the Leftovers

When I think of Manhattan Beach, I think of white-haired tan men playing beach volleyball. I think of bikini-clad girls sunbathing with big sunglasses and even bigger sun hats. I think of affluent Caucasian families playing in the ocean 100 feet away from one of their beachside vacation homes. And I am right. But behind the scenes of the decadent dominant culture resides a strong Taiwanese community. And wherever there is a strong Southeast Asian community, I know good Southeast Asian food can’t be far.

The Boiling Point is a small (or maybe large) chain Taiwanese hot pot restaurant found in the middle of a collection of Taiwanese restaurants off Gardena Street, which is an easy straight 6-mile shot from the MB pier. It’s a tiny, 20-person-at-a-time type of restaurant set up with a miserable turnover rate and sub par waiter service. But the food is all worth it.

A friend and I both got the Beef Hot Soup. Though this was the mildest of the choices on the menu (other options include kimchi, fish balls, lamb, hardened pork blood, or stinky tofu soups), it was far from generic. When the soup came to us, with a flame propped underneath the soup bowl to keep the soup boiling throughout the meal time, I found many surprises. Hidden underneath the thin beef slices and soft nappa cabbage, one may find tofu, tofu skin, cute enoki mushrooms, kamaboko, a chunk of corn, vermicelli noodles, krab, and an indescribable piece of something (which is described as a meatball on the menu, but has absolutely no resemblance to any meatball I’ve ever come across before).

While Tyler chose to get his soup “very spicy”, I chickened out and went for the “tiny spicy” option, because I have an embarrassingly low tolerance for spice. Regardless, the broth, vegetables, meat, and supplemental sauces were more than enough mmph for my taste buds. I developed a pattern for eating the soup which I highly recommend: scoop up a big chunk of something from the soup, lay it to cool in your bowl of rice, then immerse it completely in the sweet sauce (provided on the table) and enjoy. I followed this process until, by the end of the meal, both my broth and rice had absorbed the essence of what I believe is true Asiatic culinary splendor. I was so full that I couldn’t eat all of the rice and soup in one sitting. However! Words of wisdom from Tyler Watanabe: sometimes it’s the leftovers that become the most valuable part of the meal.

Mary Ruth Ngo with Tyler Watanabe

15488 S Western Ave Gardena, CA 90247

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Tikal Restaurant Cocina Maya

Nestled among a series of run-down, nondescript shops along Huntington drive lies a gem of South American restaurants. The Tikal Restaurant is a small, but vibrant hub for authentic Guatemalan food and even a small selection of Guatemalan merchandise. When Cat and I walked in, we were greeted by a tight-shirted muscular young man with sleek hair. Although his name is Darwin, he reminds me so vividly of Paris from Ulysses Voyage, that in my mind, his name is also Paris. A perfect Guatemalan derivative of beautiful Greek man. Anyway, Paris let us in and ushered us to an empty table, which was easy because there was only one other couple in the whole place.

Now, I always fear an empty restaurant. But this place is one of those online rarities that has ONLY raving reviews. Every snippet I read, from Google Plus discussions to personal blogs to TripIt, remarked on the quality and authenticity of this restaurant. And though only a mere 31 people reviewed Tikal on Yelp, it had a perfect red (5-star) rating, which is basically as good as a Michelin Star in my mind (I am a self-proclaimed Yelp evangelist… you should be, too!), so my high expectations could not be depressed from the bare attendance rate. 

What can I say? My expectations were met. This is one of those places that has everything you want to believe exists in an ethnic food restaurant. It's got the obscure, hole-in-the-wall factor, but it's very clean and maintains a classy, vibrant atmosphere. They have clearly preserved the traditions of Guatemalan cuisine, but the food is not overwhelmingly strange. It's even got a section cornered off in the restaurant where one can buy Guatemalan spices and merchandise. The handsome and charming foreign host even has the perfect mark of authenticity: a buttery Guatemalan accent.

I haven't even gotten to the food. We ordered garnachas, pan con chile and the special recaldo for the day, jocón. Garnachas are mini tortillas topped with shredded chicken, a pickled slaw of some sort, and garnished with fresh cheese and cilantro. But definitely remember to add a splash of the salsa de chile chiltepe, because the sauce adds as much flavor as it adds spice. The sandwich had great toasted bread, and the bell peppers were stuffed with a high quality seasoned beef and veggies mixture. It came with a side of fried plantains, which I will never get enough of. The jocón looked somewhat intimidating with its bright green broth, but we soon found that the flavor of jocón is quite mild. Its color comes from the ground tomatillo and cilantro which freshens up both the aroma and taste of the stew very nicely.  For dessert, we ordered the mollete. The best way to describe it is the following: a custard doughnut-like pastry drowned in a delicious pink syrup. We had no idea what the pink syrup was, but from its delicate, almost fruity flavor, Catherine guessed that it was rose syrup. It turns out that it is a white wine syrup sweetened with panela (unrefined cane sugar, which I believe is a staple of most Central American nations, but not particularly popular in the U.S.), which gave it a subtly uncommon taste. But we still don't know why it's pink. The doughnut-like pastry itself was filled with sweet rompope cream, which again, had a delicious, but quite indistinguishable flavor. After some research, I found that rompope is an "eggnog-like rum drink" common in Central America. I guess Guatemalans like their wines and liqueurs. Needless to say, we enjoyed it immensely. 

Yes. It's these kinds of restaurants that I dream about at night, too.

Mary Ruth Ngo with Catherine Swaidan

  4838 E Huntington Dr.

Los Angeles, CA 90032

(323) 352-8274

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Paris from Greece

On a bright Saturday afternoon, Natalie Markowitz, Young-in Kim and I were in downtown L.A., searching for a lunch stop after having finished a 5K run called Run or Dye. If you know anything about this race, you will know that by the end of such an event, its participants are literally covered from head to foot with brightly covered chalk. Determined to go somewhere fun, we decided to stop by the LA farmers market, despite the fact that it was about 25 minutes away from where the race was. Nevertheless, we trudged to the car, and drove all the way across Los Angeles. Stomachs grumbling and ears clogged with blue and orange chalk, we walked into the high-end Grove outdoor mall. We stuck out like a sore thumb, but that didn’t stop us from making a beeline toward the waft of good food. We arrived at the collection of ethnic restaurants only to realize that we had no hard cash, and would not be able to buy any Singaporean curry, French pastries, or Bob’s famous jelly donuts. Hungry, tired, covered in paint, and now disappointed, we trudged out of the market, deciding to just go to the first restaurant in the Grove that we came across. And that restaurant was Ulysses Voyage.

Though we were hardly clean enough to enter a white-linen type of restaurant, a young waiter with olive skin and dark curly hair (and foreign accent) happily ushered us to one of their outdoor tables. After we took turns attempting to wash off the blue stains on our hands and around our mouths in the bathroom, we sat and enjoyed a basket of fresh crusty olive bread with a soft feta cheese spread at our table and scoured the menu. The waiter, who, I might add, was extremely charming, could tell that we were struggling a little bit with finding the right entree. He offered to help us out. We struck up a conversation with him and soon found out that his name was Paris and he had moved from Greece only a year and a half ago. He told us he had been picking up English and Spanish ever since he came; he was nearly fluent in English, and conversationally-adept in Spanish (which is more than I can say after 3.5 years of high school Spanish class). By the end of the conversation, we were all thoroughly infatuated with him. When we asked his advice on the lunch options, we took it, and ordered 3 gyros wraps (pronounced “yee-rōs”): 2 lamb, and 1 chicken.

Gyro meat is meat that is cut in thin slices and stuck on a huge skewer with chunks of fat, revolving slowly around a hot fire so that the outside of the meat pile gets crispy and juicy. You’ve probably seen them behind Zankou Chicken’s counter. Chicken meat is generally just cooked in pure unadulterated slabs, and I think is technically schwarma meat that can be put in wraps and called a gyro wrap. But traditional gyro meat is ground red meat. These lamb gyros in particular were actually both lamb and beef ground up, flavored with rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper and other spices, and cooked in the form of a meatloaf before sliced, skewered, and roasted.

The gyros were large, with generous portions of meat piled on top of a bed of fresh tomatoes drenched in tzatziki sauce (a traditional cucumber yogurt sauce) struggling to stay within the folds of the thick pita. The plate also came with a light tangy salad and serving of thin fries. At first, we could not decide whether to use our (still very blue) fingers or our fork and knife to eat the wrap. Young-in maintained her dignity and politely used utensils while Natalie and I just went for it with our hands to get the job done.

Our previous mood vanished within minutes of entering the restaurant, and certainly within seconds of receiving our food. We left the place fully satisfied and re-enegerized, if not slightly sad that we were leaving our beautiful Greek man friend. But do not fear, we will return to him and our gyros soon enough.

Mary Ruth Ngo with Natalie Markowitz and Young-In Kim

6333 W 3rd St Los Angeles, CA 90036

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Daisy Mint 

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Pho Ga, Com Ca Ri Tom, Pho Tai, and Bo Cuon

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Bao Milk Bun Test

Because Cat's birthday was just last week, we told the waitress, and asked if them if they had a candle or something that we could stick in a bowl of ice cream. She assured us that she had something for us. She came back with these small white buns that had been baked in tiny little tin bowls (the same tin bowls that are clearly visible in the picture of juicy pork dumplings) and told us that they were on the house. 

Curious, we each picked one up. The moment our fingers touched the buns, we could tell that they were special. We looked at each other with anticipation and took a small bite. The delicate crispy outside had immediately broken to reveal the inside of the softest and moistest bread-like substance I have ever known to exist. A bun just like that would have been groundbreaking enough. But no, Bao Dim Sum House does not merely exceed expectations. The small bite I took revealed a great reservoir of sweet custard that was just warm enough to release pleasant wisps of steam, but not so hot that one would have to wait to take another bite. I groaned and looked deep into the heart of my bun before looking around. I saw that the other two were having equally profound and intimate moments with their milk buns. Cat's eyes were closed and there was a reverence in her chewing, perhaps even a spiritual existentialism to the way she savored her food. Natalie Rose's eyes, on the other hand, were unnaturally wide open, as she attempted to focus every fiber of her being onto the small dessert before her. The equal and opposite reactions were not just intriguing or amusing, but perfect and unaffected personality indicators. I believe the Bao Milk Bun Test should serve as an alternative to the Myers-Briggs Test. Because I peered into their souls that day.

Mary Ruth Ngo