Wednesday, June 21, 2023

DELICIOUS FLAKY CRUST

Years ago you could stroll down the street from the theatre after the movies let out and feast upon braised eels at a Shanghainese restaurant that no longer exists. Or lovely pork cutlets, which aren't really Shanghainese, more International Settlement. Then fill your pipe with a Latakia mixture and head out into the cold, cold night, still aglow from the hero film and all the tea you had drunk.

That movie theatre shut down a while back, and I've moved out of the neighborhood since then. I seldom smoke Latakia mixtures any more, prefering Virginia blends with a touch of Perique or Firecured. Still have my pipes. Evenings in the city tended often towards chilly.

The sound of Shanghainese has always seemed more sibelant than Cantonese to my ear. And it's so different that one seldom understands it. There was also a Shanghainese soup kitchen nearby, open for breakfast and lunch. Red soup noodles. No, not 羅宋湯 ('lo sung tong'), which is a version of borscht, but 紅湯麵 ('hung tong min'), wheat noodles in a red broth. With stuff added according to a limited selection.

There were more Shanghainese in the area then, though soup dumplings were still unknown. Or at least they had not cropped up on my horizon yet.

There was also a Hakka restaurant, where in the evening you could have salt-baked chicken ((鹽焗雞 'yim guk kai') or stewed fatty pork with salt vegetables (梅菜扣肉 'mui choi kau yiuk'). Delicious. The neighborhood was more prosperous then, and more self-contained.
There no movie theatres there anymore. Video tape rental places, and later DVDs changed that dynamic, and nowadays you can download films for a nominal fee. The bars largely cater to white people slumming. The bakeries have improved, and HK milk tea plus chachanteng dishes caught on. In some ways things have improved.
In some ways not.

Since Uncle's and Sun Wah Kueh closed, pie has become harder to find.
But that's also the case in the rest of the city.
The Chinatown crust was wonderful.



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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I’m with you regarding pie in San Francisco. When I lived there, Manor diner on West Portal Avenue made fresh pie daily, served up by mature but petite Vietnamese women in soft pink dresses. Sadly, Manor diner disappeared one day to the chagrin of many men who enjoyed their Capricorn coffee and pie. Later, when I moved away, Mission Pie in the Mission District fulfilled my cravings. That too recently disappeared, to be replaced by a pro-Palestinian terrorist sympathizer’s own cafe (she had such a cafe in Oakland’s Fruitvale District called Reems, and the local Zionist group got wind and protested a mural of Rasmea Odeh on the cafe’s wall). There used to be a decent diner on Polk until it started charging for coffee refills and locals protested by refusing to patronize the business - it too vanished. I think pie is too old-fashioned for the younger generations now, and that reality plays out in San Francisco.

The back of the hill said...

Those are great memories! The search for pie shall continue.

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