While I’ve loved noodles of various types for all my life, I
didn’t appreciate the subtlety of the art of noodle making until I saw Juzo
Itami’s Tampopo (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092048/). Tampopo’s personal developmental journey as a
ramen chef and as a woman, Itami’s random digressions into the twisted obsessive
and quasi-sexual relationship between people and their food, and the wonderfully
portrayed manga-like characters are some of the reasons this quirky comedy has
topped my list of favorite movies for three decades. Despite having watched it dozens of times,
the final soup drinking scene never fails to bring me to tears.
Like any foodstuff, noodles are a very personal and
subjective thing. Keep in mind that you
can get noodles of some variety at almost every storefront in this district,
and most of them are delicious. Thus
disclaimed, here are my favorites:
Noodle
Soup
Here I’ll describe the Chinese and Taiwanese varieties of
noodle soup. I will present my initial
take on ramen restaurants further down the page. I’m going to save any discussion of Pho until
I have the opportunity to sample the range of restaurants East of I5 in Little
Saigon.
Chinese noodle soup is simple, and can be broken down into
three components: broth, noodles, and ingredients (Linus: I was going to use
this box of chocolate mix…but I changed my mind… after what I read on the side….
It’s full of ingredients! (Charles Schultz)).
In the I.D. the soups I’ve had are very consistent and in
for the most part what I understand is Cantonese style, to wit:
- Broth:
clear vegetable broth with a distinctive aroma that I think of as “hay-like”. The best broth is subtle and like fresh
hay. On the other end it can get a bit
too strong and reminds me of the scent of horse droppings.
- Noodles: very thin wheat lo mein noodles cooked “al
dente”
- Ingredients: A variety of combinations of
vegetables, meats, and spices. My
favorites are the ones that I think of as distinctively Chinese: barbecued pork and/or duck, green onions, ginger,
and bok choy.
In fact, it’s difficult to make a distinction between
Cantonese lo mein and Cantonese noodle soup.
In either case you get the three components above. The difference is whether or not you put
everything into the broth, or eat it on a plate.
And the winner is…
Gourmet Noodle Bowl on 8th (http://www.yelp.com/biz/gourmet-noodle-bowl-seattle). To me, this is the clear standout in the soup wars. This place is out of the way – you pretty
much have to be looking for it, and it’s easy to be distracted by Crawfish King
next door (which I will describe in a different post on a different day). Once you’re inside, the décor is beautiful
and professional, and the food is high quality and delicious. I’ve had the Shanghai noodle soup and the
duck noodle soup and was delighted both times.
The broth is delicious, with only a hint of hay, and the ingredients are
fresh. They use a thicker style of
noodle that I typically associate with chow mein. Gourmet Noodle Bowl is what I would describe
as Asian fusion, but they have a strong Taiwanese leaning. I’m not typically fond of the flavors of
Taiwanese cooking, but this place is an exception.
While you’re here, don’t miss the Thai iced tea – here it
has a strong blend of spices that cut through the cloying sweetness that
overpowers most Thai style iced teas. To
my taste, theirs gets it right in about the same way that Dixie’s BBQ gets
Southern Sweet Tea right – try it and you’ll see what I mean.
Other notables
- Szechuan Noodle Bowl: a local favorite, their noodles
are handmade and legendary, but despite good quality, their soup recipes don’t
grab me. I do enjoy their won ton
(dumpling) soup.
- A Piece of Cake Bakery and Café: this spot was a
real surprise. Set up like a 1950s-era
lunch counter, I didn’t expect much from this place, but the won ton soup was a
delicious experience and it’s worth repeat visits.
Lo
Mein
Lo mein (“tossed noodles”) simply means noodles that are
steamed or boiled, not fried. Lo mein
comes in many varieties, but in the ID it’s usually a thin wheat noodle
(thinner than a typical ramen noodle) cooked to a toothy consistency, and
served plain with broth and meats and/or vegetables – no sauce. I’m particularly fond of the combination of fresh
ginger and green onion. As I noted
above, there’s not a lot of difference between lo mein and noodle soup,
especially for takeaway, where you always get the three components in separate
containers and it’s up to you how (or whether) to combine them.
Hint: even though
there are specific combinations listed on the menu, you can ask for whatever
combination you want.
My favorite? BBQ pork
lo mein with ginger and green onion at Ton
Kiang BBQ Noodle House on Weller St.
BBQ pork lo mein is on the menu – I ask them to add the ginger and green
onion. For the record, I put it in the soup.
Chow Mein
Continuing our basic education in the Chinese language, we
come to Chow Mein (“fried noodles”), also known as Yakisoba (“fried noodles”)
in Japanese. Unlike the lo mein, which I
usually see served in the spare Cantonese style, I like my chow mein Szechuan
style – fried with fresh meats and vegetables and as spicy as possible. Chow mein some places is done crispy, but in
Seattle, it is invariably soft and in the best restaurants the noodles are
handmade on the premises.
I’ll offer three favorites in this category:
Sichuanese Cuisine.
I first became familiar with the Redmond branch of this restaurant,
where I made it a regular stop. I used
to be torn between the pork chow mein and the dry string beans until I hit on
the idea of asking them to add string beans to the chow mein. Now I’m a one-dish man: pork chow mein with string beans and green
onion. For my dollar, these noodles are nearly (equally, maybe) as good as Judy
Fu’s.
I’m not sure why, but in Redmond the peppers they use are
not very hot, so my attempts to get them to make me a spicy enough plate of
chow mein resulted in a nearly black plate which was still not very spicy. I made it standard practice to get the noodles
plain and add my own dry crushed red pepper from Safeway across the street.
In Little Saigon, where their Seattle restaurant is located,
on the East side of Jackson in a crappy little strip mall, their peppers are
adequate, but if you’re a pasty Caucasian like me, you need to plead to get it
hot enough. “Do you want me to make you
cry?” asked the hostess on my last visit.
“Yes, please,” I replied.
Finally, perfection. You won’t
find a better plate of chow mein anywhere in the city.
Szechuan noodle bowl
On a lucky visit, you’ll see the proprietors of this hole in
the wall making their hand-shaved noodles at one of the tables nearest the
kitchen. This place is small, cash-only,
and reeks of authenticity. As I
mentioned above, I’m not a big fan of their flavor combinations, but the
noodles are rightfully famous. Don’t
miss the green onion pancakes!
Pacific Café
At the other end of the district, in an easily missable spot
on 5th, you’ll find this Hong Kong style joint which warrants
further investigation. Looking them up
online, I find that they have a great reputation for their Hong Kong style food. I come here for the Black Pepper Beef Yakisoba,
which is good enough to make me think of it randomly and fondly at odd hours of
the day and night.
Ramen
There is not much in the way of
ramen in Chinatown, and I look forward to trying the ramen houses on
the other side of Jackson in Japantown, but a commentary on noodles would not
be complete without a brief mention here.
There are two ramen contenders South
of Jackson, very different from each other:
Samurai noodle is a hip crowded
place which has the atmosphere and cool college age staff that I’d expect from
a ramen house. However, I was not
impressed by my Tampopo ramen, and while I enjoyed chatting with the hostess,
she lost a few points by not being familiar with the film that inspired the dish. Overall, Samurai, which is a local chain,
feels like a local chain. Choose Samurai
if you’re hanging out with a few rowdy friends and you want a casual
atmosphere.
Fu Lin restaurant, by contrast,
comes across as a serious craft restaurant, and they take their ramen
seriously. From their large menu, I’ve
tried the soy sauce ramen and the Tonkatsu Charsiu ramen, both lovely. The Tonkatsu particularly, with its thick
creamy white pork gravy base, was like heaven in a bowl. Definitely recommended if you’re in the mood
for great food. Fu Lin was also my
choice for best pot stickers, so a double recommendation for this China-Japan
hybrid restaurant.
Bon Appetit!
