By Sara Ventiera
By Laine Doss
By Nicole Danna
By Doug Fairall
By Sara Ventiera
By Nicole Danna
By David Minsky
By Sara Ventiera
I had an extremely visceral reaction when I read "Chinese modern: Traditional fare stylish again," one of the latest stories in Nation's Restaurant News -- I got really, really hungry.
I've never made a secret out of my love for familiar Chinese dishes such as egg foo yung and lemon chicken, the first to take root in our national culinary consciousness. I've never felt embarrassed about my comfort-level need for it when I've had a bad day at work, a fight with my husband, or a simple sore throat. Though I enjoy other ethnic cuisines, I've never felt the desire to replace my lingering craving for beef and broccoli with the curries and kebabs of southeastern Asian or the über-trendy sushi combinations inspired by Japan. "Honey," my husband sometimes (with a sickly if sincere amount of hope in his voice) queries on one of the few nights we're lucky enough to stay home, "you want Vietnamese delivered for dinner?" Um, nope. I'd rather dig into my standing order -- roast pork with Chinese vegetables and shrimp with lobster sauce -- from Wong's.
But restaurants have, in the past, bowed before the bon vivant disdain being displayed by my more misguided fellow food-mongers. Faced with increasingly exotic (Malaysian! Cambodian! Burmese!) competition, sometime around the mid-'90s they stopped calling themselves what they were -- wok-driven Americanized Chinese -- and became spin doctors. From then on, ask any Chinese restaurateur, no matter how humble, what kind of fare he serves and the answer would be something along the lines of "Well, I'm from a tiny village in north China, where my mother was the pre-eminent practitioner of dumplings, and our master chef, who trained in Hong Kong hotels and whose ancestors cooked for emperors, specializes in [choose one: Mandarin, Hunan, Szechuan, Pekinese, Cantonese]. And we never use MSG."
3331 Sheridan St.
Hollywood, FL 33021
Yeah, right. Fortunately, Nation's Restaurant News is reporting that those days have ended. Both upscale and modest restaurants are coming out of the cooking closet and unabashedly declaring themselves domestic. As in, yes, we do serve crab Rangoon, egg drop soup, honey-garlic chicken wings, spare ribs, Peking duck, lo mein, and the ubiquitous Buddha's delight.
I decided to test the trade magazine's theory by ringing up one of the newest neighborhood Chinese joints in Southeast Broward, the nine-month-old China Breeze. Located in the right angle of the Park Sheridan Plaza in Hollywood, the Breeze is a nearly identical resurrection of the long-time former occupant, Wan's Mandarin House. (Wan's Sushi, a sibling, is still operating next door.) Same fish tank filled with koi, same roomy booths and banquettes, same lazy Susans and more- elegant-than-most table trappings (read: white linens and clean bathrooms). But from the eatery's nondescript appellation, I couldn't tell what kind of regional fare was in the offing. The reply to such a ridiculous question? "Oh, we're American-Chinese," the woman who picked up the phone told me. Bling-bling-bling! Sold.
In fact, China Breeze is so very "American" (that is, heavy on the Cantonese) that the very Chinese staff feels free to offer bald advice, such as, "Stop. You've ordered too much food." They're properly horrified when your bowl of crunchy fried noodles and dish of duck sauce have been emptied and not refilled immediately. The hostess is practically a standup comedian, reminiscent of Margaret Cho (when Margaret Cho was actually funny) -- she had us laughing out loud at her descriptions of her "boss," who she later admitted was her husband, confessing that she'd trade him in for a "rich dude from Boca." Then she looked my father-in-law up and down. "You got money?" she asked.
Of course, she was kidding, but the conviviality of this place is pretty serious. Even on a Monday night, the generously proportioned dining room was three-quarters filled, with both local Hollywoodites and commuters. The clientele ranged from young couples to families with multiple offspring to empty nesters. Apparently, I'm not the only one relieved that American-Chinese food is once again the fashion.
That's not to say that every item we sampled was retro perfection. A couple of dishes, including the lithe but not particularly stimulating summer special of string beans with shredded white-meat chicken, could have used a boost in the flavor department -- the vegetables tasted like oil more than anything else. But the servers are willing to accommodate and make adjustments for taste. When we felt that the velvet chicken-corn soup was wonderfully smooth and free of that telltale cornstarch stickiness but was also a little bland, we were instructed to add hot mustard from the saucer that was promptly delivered to the table. When the cold sesame noodles, long curls of egg noodles tossed with shreds of carrots, snow peas, and bean sprouts and topped with a thick peanut-sesame dressing, became dry, the waiter offered to bring us more sauce on the side. What it really needed, however, was a bit of garlic-chili spice.
What China Breeze lacks in vibrancy, it makes up for in quality. The owners used to run a Chinese buffet restaurant, and they clearly understand how important it is to provide fresh product continually. Every vegetable we tried -- from the carrots and snow peas in the house special won ton soup to the broccoli spears that provided a bed for the triangles of supple pan-fried bean curd in black bean sauce -- boasted bright colors and featured that ideal but usually somehow unmanageable compromise between raw and overcooked. The same held true for the seafood, indisputably of respectable grade down to the small, clean-tasting -- and carefully deveined, no less, despite their stature -- shrimp in the won ton soup.