The Buddah Bar get's good Zagat review

Neighborhood favorite The Buddah Bar, has been given a good write up in Zagat's 2013 issue.
    First, it's important to clear up the name of this place. The giant neon sign reads "Buddah Bar", the bartender refers to it as "The Buddah Bar"; so why then, does yelp and Zagat insist on referring to it as "The Buddah Lounge"? Perhaps it's listed this way on some sort of city document, but "Language cannot be controlled, only recorded." let's get this right.
     The review, which names the Buddah as "one of the best dive bars in San Francisco", was greeted with apathy by longtime bartender Mark, who threw out the $15 guidebook  because "there is no point in keeping it". 

An actual food review of Spicy King

The Szechuan takeover of Chinatown – a Trifecta of Cultural Confusion.

                 Under the guidance of Chef Truman Du & co The Pot Sticker has been happily plying locals and tourists with Szechuan's spicy numbing flavor for years now, providing a Szechuan spot in a part of town dominated by mostly Cantonese and American style restaurants.

When Uncle's Cafe on Waverly and Sacramento was undergoing renovations, mostly to the tune of looking less like a high-school cafeteria, getting painted red, and putting up a massive picture of a chili pepper on the sign, I immediately assumed that some entrepreneurial spirit was simply ripping of their successful neighbor a block away. It wasn't until I found it open at 1:30am one Saturday that I wandered in and was greeted by the entire managing staff of The Pot Sticker enjoying a crab hot pot and cognac (a time tested combination).

The new Uncles Cafe, now called Spicy King,is owned and operated by the same people behind The Pot Sticker and when it first opened it seemed to be basically doing the same menu from before. So why then, have two places?

            However, now that they have been open a few months Spicy King finally makes sense. I've heard that The Pot Sticker is on a month to month lease, and worried about losing it's location should the landlord decide to increase rent, but it seems unlikely to close due to its neighborhood popularity. The menu and concept is working well, but doesn’t change that much. Most chefs will tell you that putting out the same dishes for years can be an exercise in tedium, the alleviation of this is where Spicy King comes in.

               Spicy King's menu takes what made Du's previous place interesting and increases it's potential, allowing freedom for creativity. The strength of Du's cooking is taking his Szechuan training and techniques and applying them to what is locally available.

         In other contexts this application of foreign techniques to local ingredients results in Northern California's own brand of French influenced vegetable dishes, and Boccalone's Italian style cured meats using local microbes and pork*.

However, this is not an ordinary context, this is Chinatown. Here local vegetables, while still grown in California, are Cantonese staples like bitter melon, pak choi, and winter melon. Here the butchers shops, fish mongers and stores full of dried seafood cater to a Cantonese population. It's this trifecta of American produce, Cantonese style ingredients and Szechuan techniques that make Spicy King interesting. Dishes like the egg yolk fried bitter melon and preserved egg with jalapeno are perfect examples of these 3 cuisines working together to make something that is distinctly new and exciting.

     

*I realize I just put Truman Du on the same level as Jean-Pierre Moullé and Chris Constantino, and I don't see a problem with that.

The Loving Hut 1365 Stockton Street

Warning: This article became a diatribe against monetizing the idea of health and spirituality. It contains broad generalizations about some of the citizens of San Francisco, as well as probably offends people from Taiwan. More than anything this article offends people who are not bitter health nihilists.

The Loving Hut is a vegan restaurant with prices slightly higher than average that has good miso soup, a clean atmosphere and friendly staff.

To continue to the original 'review' see below.


           The Loving Hut is weird. Posters with lots of writing, pictures of smiling people, pamphlets and some funding that allows it to be a chain offering vegan food. It's eerily quiet.
         It's creepy in that everyone who works there is always smiling and helpful, but formal. That the overreaching message of world peace, and healthy living - through us, seems, not in-genuine, but obvious.
    One can't disagree with world peace, nor can one really fundamentally disagree with eating healthily, but something remains unusual.

Some cursory research shows that the Loving Hut is owned by Ching Hai, head of the Supreme Master Ching Hai Association. She is a mystic, spiritual leader, business owner, fashion designer, etc. Just read her wiki page. I'm not saying that Ching Hai is a cult leader and marketing expert who can sell abstract ideas packaged as spirituality, but.

           San Francisco has a relationship and understanding of new-age yoga though; the bay area has monetized yoga into exercise and has countless stores selling Tibetan tchotchkes. This kind of world peace and be healthy lifestyle appeals to a large demographic in San Francisco.
         What the Loving Hut appeals to is a different demographic of people - mostly, it appears, in Taiwan. While the ethos seems mostly the same, these two demographics like different things.
         Rich white people in San Francisco, who for the purposes of this I shall refer to as "Yuppies", go for a different aesthetic than the demographic that Ching Hai profits off of.

So let's compare to something I understand.
      The best reference point for the same level of uncomfortable niceness, cost, and holier than thou atmosphere is Cafe Gratitude. Gratitude serves a customer base of yuppies, who I can comfortably pass judgement on due to the large amount of time spent in a city designed for them. The Loving Hut, however, does not make any sense to me. I have no reference  it's not that busy, and when it is the customer base is diverse. The prices are high, but not too high to scream "class warfare" as loudly as Gratitude. 

      It comes down to culture, it has to; The Loving Hut is an operation based out of Taiwan and I imagine every store in Asia looks the same as any store in the USA, but it's money is made in Taiwan.
      The answer lies in Capitalism. Capitalism uses status symbols to organize itself . So when people pull on their $100 yoga pants, that's a class signifier and a status symbol, the same way eating at Gratitude is, the same way the dog and the address are.

      I cannot claim any knowledge or even a theory of why the Loving Hut does not easily make sense in those terms; all I can say is that it confuses me, and creeps me out; it's something so far removed from my experience that it makes me uncomfortable.


      So then, why is The Loving Hut a cult, while Cafe Gratitude isn't? My answer is probably that:
1. I am being racist and assume people into The Loving Hut are less rich and less educated than those into yoga in the united states.
2. I assume the people buying into The Loving Hut and Supreme Leader Ching Hai in Taiwan have closer ties to spirituality and more sincere reasons for doing things. (This could easily be more racism)
3. I assume rich people are inherently selfish and never do anything for any genuine reason.
4. Yuppies never do anything culturally worthwhile.

Capitol. 839 Clay Street.

I've only been here once, but....


Capitol is that orange restaurant on Clay street, advertising famous chicken wings.

The interior is basic, florescent lighting, white tables and an orange theme.

To be fair, the chicken wings are really good. I ordered some fried rice, chicken wings and had no regrets.
However, this review will focus on their kitchen.

In order to go to the bathroom one must pass through the kitchen, dodging waiters and not making eye contact with the chefs.
An old man stands at a wok range casually squirting sauces into various woks (all going at full blast) from across the other side of the line, about 5 feet away. He never stops moving, and every wok is tended to; nothing burns. His assistant dutifully chops vegetables and hands him plates of stacked ingredients, indicating what dish to make; there is no speaking.
     About every 5 minutes he tosses everything, plates some, adds ingredients to others. After plating the wok is rinsed, any water evaporated on the flame, and the aromatics are smashed and swirled in (what i think is) peanut oil.

The whole thing is like a ballet, I reminisce about working a busy line and sigh - I'd trust this kitchen to produce whatever it is they do, exactly the same today as in 2 years.

Vietnam 620 Broadway

        While not technically in the borders of Chinatown (Broadway is the border, and Vietnam sits on the other side of the street), I would be remiss not to include this oft visited spot.

Due to it's location in North Beach, this tiny spot gets over it's fair share of drunken revelers after 11pm.

An aside about North Beach and Broadway.

       North Beach, for those not familiar, is essentially a tourist stroll during the day, and an Italian themed frat party by night. Broadway marks the end of the line for most of the clientele, stumbling out of the bars and spilling onto the streets shouting and yelling. Broadway has a red light district feel; with neon signs 3 stories high, strip clubs and awful bars; and alleyways inviting a whole manner of drug use. Despite this it is more of a red-light theme park than an actual seedy district, so diluted and costly has the message become. Top tip - for real sex workers and scary drug use visit The Tenderloin; specifically Leavenworth between Turk and O'Farrell. It's the constant threat of robbery that allows a red light district to thrive without too many drunken tourists.


But back to Vietnam.

       A small and cramped space, most of it taken up by the bar for counter service, and 2 tables in the back. Walking into to space one is greeted with the savory and delightful smell of grilling meats and steaming broth.
              The secret to this place is it's long hours of operation, I have actually yet to see it closed. They begin the day with chicken stock, beef stock and pork stock boiling away on the tiny stove. A grill next to it is constantly brushed but never soaped, seasoned with the meat from last night. The chicken is marinated after poaching (without fully cooking) in the stock. As the meat cools the outside becomes more permeable and the chicken sucks in the marinade of (I think) soy sauce, ginger, fish sauce et al; while releasing some cooked chicken jus. As the day progresses the chicken is sandbagged without being overcooked, and the exclusively thigh meat leak their juices all over each other into the marinade, adding to the flavor. When the time comes to finish the chicken it's reheated and grilled over high flame giving it a charred outside and soft inside, coated with the goop into a semi-sweet glaze as the flame evaporates the non essential elements.
Because the chicken is the most popular meat here; it has the most flavorful stock and leftovers, that go on to flavor the next chicken.
            However, any of the Banh mi are safe bets - cold cuts (pate, head cheese, salami) and hot (pork, beef, chicken) with a bunch of quick-pickled carrots, cucumber, mayonnaise and jalapenos. Also -$4, come on.

          The Pho broth is the same basic concept. Most Pho places, and indeed most restaurants who use long simmering liquids, will have the broths made at the beginning of the day (with some leftover from last night, but never older than 1 day), and as they cook their potency increases. However, as with stock there is a law of diminishing returns; most veggies give all their flavor after cooking for an hour, and most bones for 5 or 6, then it's just wasted space. But, if one is constantly poaching chicken, blanching veggies, steaming pork, cooking noodles in the broth then it will be continually flavored and thickened. Never order pho before 1/2 way through dinner service, your soup is just flavor for the next people. That's why, at 3am - as the drunks try to haggle for a beer well after last call and the pho broth happily simmers away with lunch and dinner flavors, that is the time for the finest broth, the thick, almost demi-glas mouth feel and the rich beef bone taste.

They also have a beverage selection of weird crisped rice, bright purple jelly things and condensed milk which is sort of great. They make Thai Iced Tea and Vietnamese Iced Coffee, and they sell beer.
All of these beverage choices became secondary when a friend and I invented the Vietnamese Michelada, using exactly one Vietnamese ingredient, a Mexican name and coming from the USA it should really be called the "Faux-pan-southeast asian-michelada". I realize the addition of fish sauce may seem unbecoming, but recall that Micheladas use Clamato juice, so seafood is not unheard of.

The Vietnam Michelada
1 bottle of tsing tao
1 slice of lime
3 shakes of salt
3 squirts of siracha
2 tsp fish sauce.

Mix well then drink over ice. Watch out for the nucleation of lime juice and salt with beer, don't make a mess.

You are welcome.




      

The Washington Cafe 826 washington street

       "I got you this because I know you like it", a smiling, slightly tipsy man said as he plonked down two coffee cups half full of Hennessy. He raised his own glass, we 'Yam sing''d and he walked off.

It was the opening day of the Washington cafe, huge floral arrangements decorated the florescent doorway and tangerine plants covered the floor.

      The Washington cafe took over the space that was previously operated by New King Tin, a place I frequented until it was shut down for health violations, and will write an obituary of at a later date. One day I was walking to New King Tin and saw the owners piling into a airport shuttle and asked; " Oh, are you going on vacation " the answer I got from the matron was a hurried and exasperated 'yes yes' as she loaded children and boxes into the van and took of never to be seen again. Four months later, Washington Cafe came onto the scene. 

      Part of a larger group of restaurants of a similar ilk, I have heard the Washington Cafe referred to as a 'cafeteria style' 'hong Kong style cafe''; by various people. It is a collection of about 12 tables, a menu of about 150 items and operating hours that last well into the night. 

     Having been to the cafe many times since it's opening I got to know the owner. We have shared bottles of wine and Hennessy while talking about what owning and operating a restaurant is like in Chinatown; in the business we call this talking shop, or bitching about work; either way, It's important to have other restaurant owners to talk to about this kind of thing; preferably over a glass of poor cognac. 

    

      During the first months of their operation they focused on cheap and simple Cantonese style food. The chef is a friend and 'student' of Truman Du of Pot Sticker/Spicy king - but goes in a different direction. The chef here has a crowd who don't like anything too unusual, so the food stays typically Cantonese, however, as we are in San Francisco, not China, typically Cantonese here means Cantonese food as you would get in China, not 'typical' or 'non unusual' for those of us not versed in Cantonese cuisine. This is an important distinction to make; lots of places play it safe, but Washington Cafe plays it safe in a whole different way; safe to a community who don't want to assimilate to the western palate - and that's what makes the food here interesting. Without going into too much detail, I like the spicy chicken feet, beef stew, and the Quails Pot.

      Then as they had been opened a few months, they installed hot pot plates in every table, and now offer some great and inexpensive hot pot, and if I had enough friends to go to these places en masse, I would eat it all the time.

     The crowd is great, and if you visit on a Saturday night after 10pm be prepared for older men playing cards, drinking cognac, eating hot pot (crab), and generally being raucous. As a veteran of the Chinatown bar scene, I can safely say that its' 90% non Chinese in the bars here, and that most locals tend to drink with friends at restaurants.  The best upside to this is that you can bring any booze you want into any restaurant in Chinatown and not have a problem.
     Aslo, plenty of Hong Kong Cinema is always on the TVs, and even if the servers don't understand, they will write the name of the movie down and you can go an get it pretty easily in any store around.

XO sauce -
      This place introduced me to XO sauce; a Hong Kong sauce made with various dried seafood and aromatics. Apparently it's all the rage in Hong Kong and is in fact named after the XO brandys (and marketed the same way, in fancy boxes and even uses the XO(extra old) distinction brandys use). The Washington Cafe will put it on everything and anything, and with good result. It offers a fermented seafood flavor, umami and salty, in a dark 'demi-glas esque' preparation, it might even have brandy in it.

There is something going on with Hong Kong and brandy; XO sauce clearly marks the trend, and friends in Shanghai or anywhere else in mainland china don't report a predilection for hennessy, so it has to be a Hong Kong or diaspora thing. 

Barometers

Barometers are dishes that exist in every cuisine that one can try to see if the cook knows what they are doing. San Francisco judges a taqueria (perhaps misguidedly), on the carne asada burrito.
I've found that Cantonese cooking has an important barometer: Beef Chow Fun.
     
          Every restaurant does beef chow fun, and every restaurant uses the same ingredients, probably from the same supplier - that's what makes it an important guideline, there is a wealth of controls to the test. The preparation, from what I can decern, is simple; cook beef, add noodles, toss and serve. Its a simple dish that anyone can do but few can do well; there is a technique which is acquired through practice. The beef is cooked first 80% of the time, so reheating before service requires knowing the time between tender and rubber, you can get that down in a day and there is no excuse for rubbery beef. It's when the noodles come in where the problems start.

           Chow-Fun noodles are flat and thin, a perfect beef chow fun has long, unbroken noodles that are evenly coated in the sauce (the difference between dry and wet chow fun is the amount of sauce, obviously) and not sticking together. It's all about timing and not touching the noodles, an inexperienced cook will throw the noodles in and toss them around, breaking them; or, terrified of breaking the noodles will let them sit unmolested creating a sticky mass, there is a balance of gentle tossing and cooking time that any good cantonese chef has down to a second nature.