159. A Burmese Spread at Daw Yee Myanmar Café (LA-SGV: Monterey Park)

After my first experience with Burmese food at Burma Superstar in San Francisco, I have been intrigued by the food from the country now known as Myanmar.  We visited Daw Yee Myanmar Café to eat more of this unique cuisine that blends Chinese, Indian, Thai, and Lao influences into its own native fare.

A must-order dish that provides a glimpse into traditional Burmese fare is the tea leaf salad.  Diced tomatoes, roasted peanuts, fried lentils, and toasted sesame accompany shredded cabbage, whole chilies, and fermented tea leaves imported directly from the mother country.  Our Burmese server-host-instructor extraordinaire tossed the hodgepodge of ingredients table side until it created a harmonious blend of rainbow colored, texturally titillating, fragrant salad.

One of our favorites was the kima platha, a sort of grilled flatbread in finger food sized pieces folded over ground chicken seasoned with Indian masala.  It is almost like a potsticker, but a more bready, heartier, fuller version of the usual fried dumpling.  The kima platha comes with a dipping sauce, but we used it to soak up all the leftover curry goodness on our plates.

Speaking of curry, the egg curry was a highlight of the night.  Get this... the eggs are hard boiled and deep fried, then added to the mix of tomato and onion sauce.  The colorful curry covers the eggs, making them gleam in the golden pool of glory.  Cut the eggs up and let them fall into that sauce... douse the eggs with more sauce, and you've got a spoonful of bliss.  Whoever thought of this (someone Burmese I presume) was a genius.

There are many more items on the menu that are great to share as well.  We also ordered the mutton curry, which was robust in meaty flavor with a tinge of lemongrass.  The mohinga, Myanmar's national dish, should not be missed.  Rice noodles submerged what is known as a catfish chowder piques an initial interest but results in a complete addiction to the comforting noodle soup.  We are definitely returning for more.

Happy birthday, Ron.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Daw Yee Myanmar Café
111 N. Rural Dr.
intersection of Garvey Ave.
Monterey Park, CA 91755
Closed Tuesdays

ML - 20130909

Post 60: San Francisco - For Love and Adventure

Back in April I headed up to San Francisco to witness Boy and Girl tie the knot.  Boy and Girl's wedding theme was For Love and Adventure, a very fitting theme considering that Boy and Girl love to travel, love food, and of course, love each other very much.  I thought it would be creative to put a little wedding spin on this post and dedicate it to Boy and Girl.  Here are something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue that I came across on my adventure through San Fran. 

Turtle Tower (SF: Civic Center)

Something old - Chicken pho (pho ga long)

It's not that the chicken is stale or that the noodles are old... in fact, the chicken is juicy and tender, and the noodles are picked up by the owner fresh each day.  Chicken pho is old in the sense that it's something familiar, something homey, something comforting.  Speaking of comforting, this big bowl of chicken noodle soup was what cured six Saturday morning hangovers.  And what better way to cure a hangover with a steaming bowl of clear broth made from organic, free range chicken? Only in San Francisco will you find the chicken used in pho to be good not only for man but for the animal as well.  Think chicken pho is good? The server says, "pho ga long is better!" If you're alright with giblets, you'll certainly agree.

Little Delhi (SF: Union Square)

Something new - Badami chicken

The first dish I order at Indian restaurants is usually chicken tikka masala.  The creamy yet spicy curry dish is simply irresistible.  This time, however, I went for something new.  The first dish that I ordered was the house recommended badami chicken, a dish prepared by adding tandoori chicken to creamy curry with ground pistachios and cashews.  Grinding up the pistachios and cashews contribute a depth of flavor to the curry so that it's not just spicy but a bit nutty tasting too.  It went great with the garlic naan, and it tasted even better as a dipping sauce for the samosas too.  Even Kevin, who wanted nothing other than garlic naan, helped himself to a few extra spoonfuls of this exotically fragrance dish.  Badami chicken was definitely something new for me.  If only more Indian restaurants served this dish along with the other items on the menu.

Hong Kong Lounge (SF: Outer Richmond)

Something borrowed - Sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaf (秘制果蒸粽)

I'm not sure what inspired Hong Kong Lounge to create an enormous, eight dollar, Chinese sticky rice wrap at dim sum, but I wouldn't be surprised if they borrowed the idea of super sizing everything from the land that's known for foot-long sandwiches, double-decker burgers, and extra large slurpees.  Often times dishes that are made to gargantuan proportions are somehow neglected if not by health, then by flavor or by lack of quality ingredients.  This sticky rice wrap is not the case.  It's full of savory pork, flavorful Shiitake mushrooms, roasted peanuts, fresh egg yolk, and saucy sticky rice.  Check out how big the wrap is sitting next to the tea cup.  That's some heavy duty Chinese flavor, for real.

SFO Aviation Museum & Library (SF: San Mateo Co.)

Something blue - Boy and Girl's wedding (SF: SFO Intl Airport)

If I were to really highlight something blue that I ate, it would just be the bleu cheese from the salad at the wedding.  But how far would I get talking about the bleu cheese in a salad? What was truly blue (in color not emotion) was the wedding itself.  From the Pan Am stewardess outfits on display to the creatively packaged Hershey's chocolate bars to the handmade table decorations to the groom's tie and the M&M's, there were vibrant shades of blue everywhere.  A beautiful color... a beautiful wedding theme... a beautiful couple.

Cheers to the happy couple, Moritaka and Cheryl.  I wish you a lifetime of happiness, much love and much adventure! I can't wait to hear more stories of food and travel.  Until next time let's get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110428-0501

Post 43.3: Burma SuperStar, a Cinematic Experience (SF: Inner Richmond)

In the Richmond District is Burma SuperStar, an insanely well-known restaurant whose name has floated around in conversations amongst friends for ages.  I had only gotten into the car to leave from my afternoon meal at San Tung when Diana called and said that it was time to finally see about the hyped-up superb Burmese cuisine.  Eating at San Tung was like watching the matinee showing of an animated comedy, but eating at Burma SuperStar was like catching the midnight opening of a highly anticipated blockbuster.  To delve into my analogy further, I had just finished watching Tangled and was about to see Tron.  I felt reluctant yet excited the same time.

During the half hour wait, I squatted down Asian-style not to rest my feet but to hide from the ridiculously chilly San Francisco wind.  Dilemma.  I wanted desperately to step into the warm restaurant, but doing so would only require me to digest the food from San Tung immediately.  That was impossible.

We finally got seated in a corner, behind a pole and next to the front door that let in a draft each time someone walked in.  It was clearly the best seat in the house.  So the menu and ordering duties thrown upon me, I ordered every possible recommended item that four people could finish... an appetizer, a salad, a noodle dish, and a curry and a stew to pair with rice.  After much anticipation, we were ready for our cinematic experience with Burmese food.  Let the curtains rise...

The previews - Tea leaf salad

Fermented tea leaves (lahpet), peanut halves, slices of fried garlic, split yellow peas, sunflower seeds, and sesame seeds were the hodgepodge of ingredients that comprised the tea leaf salad.  As the server tossed the salad right at the table, we gushed a few oohs and ahhs the same way the film's audience laughs, gasps, and claps during a film's previews.  There is much excitement, and this portion of the experience is highly memorable... but previews don't tell the film's story, and the tea leaf salad is not an accurate reflection of Burmese food. 

There is always at least one preview that inspires your return to the theater.  That was the fermented tea leaves for me.  I focused my attention to the tea leaves because the distinct taste playfully beckoned with exotic appeal.  It's the pretty girl with the blue eyes checking out apples in the produce section.  It was not the shrieking baby crying for her pacifier in the bakery.  The taste is pleasingly potent and not overly robust.  It was clearly the star Burmese dish, and it's the one I would return for.

Courtesy reminder - Burmese samusas

The server brought with him a scent of curried chicken and potatoes, but the fragrance was gone as quickly as it had arrived.  Hands impatiently grabbed the deep fried raviolis for a quick dip in the sweet and spicy sauce, and in one swift motion, the samusas were on their way to digestive doom.  The scene reminded me of how theatergoers scramble to turn off their cell phones when the 'please turn off your cell phone' flashes on the screen.  Everyone knows that as soon as the cell phones are turned off, and as soon as the appetizers are finished, it's time for the main attraction.

Opening scene - Bun tay kauswer (coconut curry chicken noodles)

Sometimes the opening scene of a film tells you little about the plot.  Sometimes it tells you nothing at all.  Sometimes the scene is blisteringly bright, and it hurts your eyes.  Sometimes it's so dark that you can't even tell the film has begun.  It takes a few moments to adapt to the opening scene.  With my first bite, I tasted the spicy curry flavor of the noodles, and I wondered silently... is this what Burmese food really is? I'm not quite sure.  Is it good? Oh, hell yeah. One more bite, a different nutty, creamy taste from the coconut rolled over, under and around my tongue.  I tried to figure out just exactly what was going on, but the action continued.

First conflict - Pumpkin pork stew

The sudden onslaught of various spices brought on the first conflict between characters.  The big chunks of savory pork clashed with the even bigger chunks of sweet pumpkin.  My stomach turned between the suddenly spicy, suddenly sweet, and suddenly savory tastes.  Had the pork and pumpkin been cut into a slightly smaller size, the flavors in the stew would have been blended together more smoothly.  This was the point that if the conflict didn't get resolved, then the drama would escalate, and disaster would be imminent.  Just my luck... an even spicier curry had just been served.

Intense climax - Burmese style curry with lamb

The lamb curry completely exploited the foundation of conflict that the pork stew had set up earlier.  If the pork stew lit the match of spiciness, then the lamb curry was the strong wind that ignited the wildfire.  The intensity of the spice formed beads of sweat on my forehead, and I could not continue eating.  With my stomach churning and the beads of sweat falling down my face, I resorted to gasping for air and downing water by the glass.  The Burmese curry was like the confrontation between Simba and Scar, the final sinking of the Titanic, and the toys' escape from Andy's room. 

Conflict resolution - Coconut rice and tan poi combination

The solution to my stomach's conflict with the spicy curry was just a few spoonfuls of the sticky white jasmine rice that was sweetened with coconut milk.  Even the cinnamon and raisins cooked in the tan poi's basmati rice were just sweet enough to soothe the burning.  The combination of rice slowed the sweat, and well, that made everyone happy.  The uncontrollable fire of spiciness had been put out.

Fin, credits - Coconut ice cream

The dessert, like the final credits, are simply not worthy of a diner's time.  But for others dessert, like the final credits, is a required element of a complete dinner.  The coconut ice cream was sweet and refreshing.  It helped soothe the spicy rumblings of our just-finished Burmese meal.  What was unique about the ice cream were the hidden shreds of coconut flesh submerged within the confines of the spherical scoops.  Using my childhood experience of digging marshmallows out of rocky road, I went after the coconut flesh like I was searching for buried treasure.  Simply delicious. 

An eye-opening first experience with Burmese cuisine was complete.  We had moved from Inner Sunset to Inner Richmond where the Asian cuisine is just as delicious and just as well-known.  The food from either one of these areas beats the Chinese cuisine from Chinatown without a doubt.  This is where adventurous culinary explorers should begin their search for delicious delicacies.  There are rows and rows of excellent restaurants in the Sunset and Richmond districts... perhaps there are just as many stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.  It's impossible to conquer all the deliciousness in one visit to San Francisco.  That's probably why Yelp bookmarks pile up the same way the films in a Netflix queue do.

A gracious thank you to Justin for standing out in the freezing cold while Diana navigated her way through San Francisco... no thanks to her GPS.  Happy eating to all. 

Next post: Wining and dining smorgasbord

ML - 20110104/20101212

Post 33: Lessons Learned

Lesson One

This week I lost a perfectly good sandwich (well, half of it) to the floor (carpeted) due to my inferior lack of prioritization.  Upon returning from Vons with a freshly prepared deli sandwich, I unwrapped my sandwich and placed it on my desk near by keyboard.  I was so excited about my dark chocolate Reese's peanut butter cups that I swiveled my chair around to put the chocolate in the drawers of my desk.  When I turned around...

HUH?! My sandwich (well, half of it) was gone.  Where did it go?

The floor.  Apparenly my sandwich had rolled off my desk.  How did that happen? Well, I was careless enough to place it on the carpal-tunnel-preventer tool/object/device (AKA wrist rest).  And my bread was a round, torpedo-shaped roll.

The bread was here; the turkey was there; the tomatoes, onions, and pickles were everywhere.  Sadness.  I salavaged what I could... mainly the cheese (oh, my dear pepper jack), lettuce, and the other slice of bread.

So lesson learned.  Eat sandwich first; worry about candy bars later.  And be wary of where you put your unwrapped sandwich at lunch.  Do not, under any circumstances, leave it anywhere near the keyboard or carpal-tunnel-preventer tool/object/device.  Better yet, never eat sandwiches with round bread.  It's sliced bread from now on for me.  Or pitas.  Yes, pitas.

Lesson Two

Never buy samosas from gas stations in Woodland Hills, especially if they aren't made by Indians, and super especially if they've been sitting under a tepidly warm heatlamp.  Wait 'til you get a chance to hit up some true authentic places.  Ughhhhh.  Lesson learned.

Lesson Three

There is no lesson.  Don't repeat mistakes from the aforementioned lessons.  I'm going to NYC for some US Open tennis matches and some delicious grub.  Whoo hoo!

Posts to come... until then, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100903

Post 7: Conquering my Curry Craving (SD: Miramar)

Sometimes cravings hit me the same way a heavyweight boxer gets jabbed in the jaw by his opponent. WHAAAAMM. It's nothin' but pain. Today I got a slam in the stomach that left me crying for curry, and the only way to cure the pain was to conquer the craving.

My favorite spot for a quick conquering of my Indian curry craving is Punjabi Tandoor, a hole in the wall hidden amongst techno-corporate office buildings in San Diego's Miramar region. With about a dozen tables total (inside and on the patio) and most of their curries pre-made, I would never call this a restaurant... but this 'shop' does provides an instant remedy for the pain caused by my curry craving.

Can you find it? Punjabi Tandoor is hidden between corporate office space.

My meal was a boxing match against five curries. Here's how the fight (MICHAEL LIN vs. CURRY SINGH) played out:

Pre-fight training (cue Rocky music...) - VEGETABLE SAMOSAS

Biting into these samosas are a combination of pain and pleasure. The steam fills the caverns of your mouth so quickly that you don't have time to scream, but the intensity of spices from the peas and potatoes leaves you panning for more. Good thing the samosas come in pairs!

Crispy and fluffy vegetable samosas.
Broken apart and basking next to pools of chutneys.

Round 1. The first punch - SAAG SPINACH CURRY
The spinach curry is the first punch to your face... BOOM. Like... damn. Where did that come from? It's a sobering wake up call that announces that the fight has begun. The creaminess of the spinach curry fooled me at first, but trust me when I advise you to never underestimate your opponent. The adrenaline starts pumping, and drops of sweat have begun to roll down the side of my face...

Round 2. Footwork and blocking - CHANNA CHICKPEA MASALA
Getting hit for the first time signals your body to immediately guard against another attack. Put your arms up, and cover your face! The chickpeas in this curry are a bit bland in comparison to the spinach curry, but it provides a defense against any other attacks of spiciness. The channa masala is the dance of the footwork that helps prepare for the next jab.

Topped off with a yin and yang of chutney.
The green chutney has a spicy yet minty kick, and the red chutney is sweet like molasses.

Round 3. The unexpected uppercut - SHREDDED CHICKEN TANDOORI
I expect spicy food to be brightly colored as a natural warning of impending digestive disaster, but deceit in this surprise lies beneath the curry's dull, crimson color. While the spiciness from most other curries hits the top of your tongue, the blow from this chicken tandoori hits the underside of your tongue like an uppercut to the bottom of your chin. BAAAAAM. It hits so hard that it throws the sweat right off my face.

Respite between rounds - PANEER TIKKA MASALA
After getting a brutal pounding in the first round against Curry Singh, paneer tikka masala provides a rejuvenating respite between rounds. Don't get me wrong; the curry still stings, but the delightful dairy soaking in the tub of the curry is like the sponge of relief that the trainer uses to wipe down your sweat. The curry that the paneer floats in is like the squirt of Gatorade in your mouth that replenishes your body. It still stings a bit, but it helps you strategize your next move.

Paneer tikka masala.
Five curries completed my pentagon of Punjabi pleasures.

Final round. Fight to the finish - CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA
The final round in a fight is the one that inflicts the most pain. The aggressor jabs, hits, and punches in such a frenzy that the opponent collapses in a total knockout. This chicken tikka masala jabbed, hit, and punched my taste buds with such a drunken rage of spiciness that I was overcome with an invigorating rush to defeat the curry. I didn't want to throw in the towel, but Singh delivered a final blow of spiciness so great that my tongue collapsed in defeat.

Post-fight massage/rub-down - MILK KHEER
After an utter defeat of currgantuan proportions, my taste buds needed a cleansing just as much as heavyweight boxers need post-fight massages. The cleansing for my taste buds came in the form of a milk-based, sweet rice dessert called kheer, comparable to Southeast Asian tapioca desserts (西米露). Providing a much-needed relief after a spicy meal, kheer allows the eater to rest from battle and regain the strength and endurance needed for the next match.

Lin vs. Singh: in the green corner is saag spinach curry.

Channa masala in the yellow corner; chicken tandoori in the red corner.
Chicken tikka masala in the brown corner.

After a traditional southern Indian wedding last November, I couldn't get over my hankering for delicious Indian food. Although the state of Punjab is not part of southern India (it's closer to the Pakistani border), Punjabi Tandoor calmed my craving for curry. The samosas, the chicken tikka masala, and the paneer were my favorites... hands down. Perhaps vegetarians would enjoy the channa masala more than I did (as my Lydia the newfound vegetarian had). Judging by Myung's plate (six curries; plate completely demolished), he enjoyed everything.

Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Mentions:
Aparna, we share a very important and special date! Thanks for giving me a first-hand glimpse at southern Indian traditions. I hope I can provide the same generosity and hospitality with my culture's traditions in the near future too...
Anisha, for telling me about this place and 'promising' that you would take me... and then seeing you there when I went myself! This place is bomb... thanks, Ms. Sakariya!
Aman and Janaki, the first Indian friends (Punjabi and Gujarati... I still remember) I met at school; one whose mom cooks the most amazing and memorable home-made Punjabi food ever and one who has allowed me to drunkenly sabotage her vegetarian diet... but only once!
Myung, thanks for driving. Enjoy your time here before heading back to Seoul...
Lydia, welcome back to USA. We'll get some 蔥抓餅 soon!
Anna, I was put in a bad spot... between a monster and a vegetarian!


ML - 20100131